


Up Where The Air Is Clear

by BrightShiningAsTheSun



Category: Saving Mr. Banks (2013)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-02-18 18:43:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 172,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2358302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrightShiningAsTheSun/pseuds/BrightShiningAsTheSun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Charlotte took the job of Concept Artist at Walt Disney Studios to work on their latest picture, she knew it might be a hard task, but she quickly finds that keeping up with the workload is the least of her problems. She and her new colleagues, two jovial brothers and a bright screenplay writer, have to learn to work with their curmudgeonly author, but somehow, she knows they'll muddle through. Especially if the rather handsome man sat behind the piano continues to smile at her like that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so let's just pretend that Dick isn't married in the film so I can get this out of my head and onto here. It pretty much follows the plot of the film, just with my OC and a lot of extra scenes.

_For Sarahjane_

Taxis, Charlotte decided, were just as temperamental as aeroplanes and twice as crafty. She clutched at the door handle as her driver swerved around yet another corner at breakneck speed. There were too many cars and the roads, they were far too narrow. It was a sheer bloody miracle that anyone managed to get from A to B safely in this country. Her driver (he'd told her that his name was Jimmy) hammered the heel of his palm against the centre of the steering wheel and yelled at another car as they sped past.

Charlotte twisted in her seat to look out of the rear window and mouth an apology to the driver of the other vehicle, but they had already left him far behind. She turned back and gripped the door handle again. Oh, she was out of her depth. California was sold to her as a paradise, with serene locals, clean air and quiet streets. So far, it seemed she needn't have bothered flying all the way from England because the hustle and bustle of Los Angeles was exactly like that of London.

Thankfully, someone seemed to hear her prayers and thought it best to answer them, as within the next few minutes, the roads cleared and they steadily climbed a hill. The road twisted around and around, the trees beginning to clear as they gained altitude. Eventually, they reached the top and Charlotte was gifted with the sight of the city, only just beginning to wake up under the grimy, lilac softness of a California morning, before they continued on the winding road. She settled back into her seat, now that they'd slowed down and she didn't feel like she was back on the aeroplane that had brought her there.

It took a little time after that for them to reach their destination but eventually the squat, yellow taxi pulled up outside the Walt Disney Studios with a squeal and a jerk. Charlotte huffed and smoothed down her hair, which had been perfectly done up when she left her hotel but now resembled a bird's nest. Her driver hopped out and opened the door for her.

"Walt Disney Studios," Jimmy stated proudly, rocking back and forth on his heels. He was a young man, barely older than eighteen, and proud of a job well done.

"Thank you." Charlotte fished out her purse. With the money stowed carefully in his pocket, Jimmy gave her a quick salute.

"You here on business?" She would've found him quite nosey if he weren't so young.

"New job." Jimmy nodded.

"Me too." He patted the roof of the car fondly. Charlotte raised her eyebrows and tried to disguise her derisive laugh as a cough.

"You don't say," she said, then felt unkind, but the young man didn't seem to notice her sarcasm. Jimmy gave her a wide, toothy grin then a cheery wave.

"Well, goodbye now." He slid back into the driver's seat and slammed the door shut behind him. Charlotte heard him turn on the radio full blast before the tyres began to spin and he tore off down the road. She watched him leave, wincing as he rounded the corner without slowing down. With a sigh, Charlotte pushed her handbag strap further onto her shoulder and readjusted her grip on her small case. She looked up at the banner-like sign that spread across the entrance to the lot and squared her shoulders.

 _New country, new job, new me_ , Charlotte thought for the umpteenth time that day. It had become her mantra and had served her well, especially as a reminder of why she was there, and that it wasn't all dizzying aeroplane rides, strange new food, and taxi drivers that wanted to kill her. Charlotte walked up to the lot entrance where a security guard was sat inside a metal cubicle, a red and white striped traffic barrier next to it. She knocked politely on the glass window and it slid away so that the old, whiskery guard could poke his head out.

"Hello..." Charlotte started uncertainly. She could feel her confidence waning under the reproachful stare of the guard. "It's my first day and I'm not sure where t-"

"First building on the left," the old man squawked, jabbing a crooked thumb over to a small, square building. Though Charlotte was slightly taken aback by his abruptness, she thanked him when he raised the security barrier. She had to duck to get under it safely but soon she was on her way again. Charlotte looked back over her shoulder just as the wizened man disappeared out of sight, the glass window sliding shut with a blunt 'thunk'.

God, she was nervous. In all her life, she'd never worked anywhere so renowned, so prestigious, so, well,  _famous_. When Charlie got the telephone call five days ago telling her that she had the job and they wanted her there as soon as possible, she was beside herself with joy. She simply couldn't believe it.

This place was so alien. The food, the people, the scenery, it was all so big. There was far too much to take in. Charlie had only arrived yesterday and was immediately swept away to her hotel, which was close to the Studios. It was the cheapest accommodation she could find but she would only be staying for a short while, a month at the most. It wasn't exactly the nicest hotel in the world but it had everything she needed.

Her small suitcase bumped against the side of her leg as a little reminder that they had  _invited_  her, so she must be good enough. It carried a few art supplies and some ideas she'd already devised. Charlie was there to draw, to paint, to bring their story to life. She was going to be a part of something huge, which was both exhilarating and terrifying. But it was too late to turn back now, she'd already reached the administration building.

She pushed open the heavy, brass-framed door and looked around uncertainly. A marble-topped desk stretched from one end of the room to the other. There was a row of chairs on either side of the entrance and, apart from a single man, they were all empty.

Charlie strode up to the desk, determined to exude an air of grace and capability, her heels clacking on the tiled floor. She reached out and gently rang the bell with the tips of her fingers. Almost instantaneously, a young woman appeared. She gave Charlotte a toothy, white smile.

"Good morning and welcome to the Walt Disney Studios. How can I be of assistance?" Charlotte smiled back at the woman and put her suitcase on the ground by feet.

"Good morning. I'm here to meet..." She paused and realised she didn't know who she was looking for. She frowned. "Hang on." Charlie dug around in her bag for the letter she had received. It contained all the details she would need about her stay and work placement, including who she would be meeting that day. She glanced down at the paper in her hands and quickly found what she was looking for. "Don DaGradi?" She read aloud, then looked back up at the receptionist. She smiled and gestured behind her to the row of chairs.

"Don, your new artist is here." Charlotte turned to find she was addressing the singular figure sitting in the waiting room. He jumped from his seat as if electrocuted and bounded over to her.

"Hi, Don DaGradi, pleasure to meet ya!" The man introduced himself, holding out his hand. He appeared to be in his early fifties, and wore a grey suit with a thin black tie. A pair of thick, square glasses sat on the end of his nose and he certainly seemed friendly. "You must be-"

"Charlotte Johnson-Liddle, yes, hello." She replied smoothly as she took his hand and shook it firmly.

"Hello and good morning!" Don said cheerfully, that American enthusiasm coming out in full force. "How was your flight?" Charlotte pulled a face and gave him a wry smile.

"Uneventful, thank goodness." She wouldn't mention the taxi until later, she wanted to make a good impression and moaning about her driver would not do. "I'm not the biggest fan of flying." She admitted.

"Ah, well, hopefully you'll be working here for a while, so you won't have to fly anywhere just yet." When Charlotte smiled, Don jerked his head towards the huge doors. "C'mon, I'll show you around."

They waved a quick goodbye to the receptionist as they passed through the doors and then Charlotte followed Don as he meandered down the centre of the lot. "It's at this point that I'm obliged to give you a little speech that comes with the tour, if you think you can stand it." He joked, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. Don exuded a sense of calm and informality. Charlie really had fallen through the looking glass. Every other company she'd worked for had been very prim and proper.

"No, no, I'm terribly interested!" She said quickly, and she was. Charlie knew very little about the history of the Studios and was hungry to learn. She smiled cheekily. "Go on, give your speech." She said, finding she liked the laid-back atmosphere they had here. Don laughed and clapped his hands together.

"Well, then." He said, holding his arms open wide and waggling his hands grandly. "The Walt Disney Company started in 1923 in a small office in Los Angeles. It was there that Walt Disney and his brother Roy produced a series of short live-action and animated films." Charlotte raised her eyebrows, happily surprised.

"I didn't know that." Don gave her a pointed look.

"Aren't you glad you took the tour?" He adopted his hyperbolic tour guide voice again and continued the spiel. "During the next fourteen years, many changes took place at the Disney Studios. Mickey Mouse was born in 1928, followed by Pluto, Goofy, Donald and the rest of the gang." He jabbed his thumb over to a colourful poster on the wall of a building, conveniently displaying the characters he had just mentioned. "After the release of the  _critically_   _acclaimed_  'Snow White and the Seven Dwarves'," He nudged her arm to stress how impressive he was being and Charlie laughed again. She very much liked DaGradi and was glad they would be working closely. "We realised we needed to expand. So, with the profits from 'Snow White', Walt began designing a studio built specifically for making animated films."

He gestured to a building on their right. "Over here we have the Animation Building, where the animators and the artists work. Across the street here, we have Inking and Painting, and the Camera buildings, where the artwork is completed and photographed." The buildings were all sleek and new, but they stood proud in a way that usually only came with buildings that were much, much older. It was as if they knew how important they were. "Next to Camera, in the Cutting building, the postproduction process happens."

DaGradi span around so he was walking backwards and pointed down at the ground. "Here's a little tidbit, many of the buildings are linked together by an underground tunnel, so even in bad weather, the process isn't disrupted." Charlotte was impressed, this place really was as exciting as people said. "And here we are, the main building." Don announced proudly. Charlotte looked back at the lot they had walked down and shook her head in disbelief.

"Incredible." She breathed, taking everything in with wide eyes. "It's absolutely marvellous." She looked back at Don and he asked her to follow him inside. Soon, they were in yet another office area. A short, pretty secretary sat behind the desk, talking animatedly on the telephone, but she put it down when she saw them enter.

"Hiya, Dolly." Don greeted her. She smiled sweetly and stood from her seat.

"Hi, Don." Her curious gaze turned to Charlotte. Don stepped aside and introduced her with a grand gesture.

"This is Charlotte Johnson-Liddle. She's our new concept artist. Gonna help the boys and I put their music to pictures." Charlotte smiled at Dolly as she shook her hand.

"Charlotte, it's so nice to meet ya." She greeted her just as enthusiastically as Don had. "Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee?"

"No, thank you. I'm fine." Dolly grinned, leaning her elbows on the desk and propping up her chin on her palm.

"So, where are you from?" Charlotte was about to answer when Don pointedly cleared his throat.

"Dolly, if you could tell Walt we're here." He asked gently, raising his eyebrows at her. His words knocked Charlie's feet out from under her. She didn't think she'd be meeting the man himself. Immediately, Dolly straightened up.

"Right, gotcha," she said, tutting at herself for getting distracted. She smiled at them again before tottering off to fetch their boss. Don chuckled before remembering something important.

"Oh, before you meet him, just gotta tell ya, the guy hates being called Mr. Disney." Charlotte looked confused.

"Then what should I call him?"

"Well, Walt," Don said, as if it were obvious. Her complete look of shock surprised him. Charlotte's eyes were wide, her mouth hanging open, something her mother would've said was very unladylike.

"I couldn't possibly-" A loud cough interrupted her and then a man suddenly came striding into the room.

"You must be Charlotte." He boomed as he met her and Don in the centre of the room. Charlotte gazed up at him in wonder. Never, in all her life, did she ever think she would meet Walt Disney.

"Yes," she managed after a moment's pause. She took his offered hand and tried to keep her feet on the ground as he vigorously shook it. "It's terribly nice to meet you." Charlotte glanced quickly at Don before adding, "Walt." It felt odd addressing someone by their first name after only having just met them. Again, she thought of what her mother might say and felt even more uncomfortable, but she kept up her smile as the larger-than-life man continued.

"It's nice to meet you too, Charlotte," Walt said warmly, and she truly felt like he meant it. She'd always admired him. Charlotte had loved art since she was a young girl and Disney's films were kindling for the fires of her imagination. He had inspired her, as she was sure he had inspired many other children. Now, here he was, shaking her hand and beaming away like Father Christmas. "It's always a pleasure to meet the people who're going to be working with me." Charlotte began to smile too, not knowing quite where to look.

"Well, thank you," she replied meekly. Walt looked to Don and clapped his hands together.

"It's her first day, Don, what're you gonna show her?"

"Well, we've finished the tour of the lot, so now I'll take you to your office and then you can meet the boys." When Charlotte nodded, Walt smiled and patted Don on the shoulder.

"Say hi to them for me," he said, then he looked back at Charlotte. "I'll see you real soon." Walt shook her hand, smiled brightly at her once more then walked back to his office. Don noticed the awestruck look on Charlotte's face and chuckled.

"Don't worry," he said. "He has that effect on everybody."

Charlotte kept up with Don's fast pace as they walked through the bright, homely corridors. The walls were lined with photographs of Disney and his employees, artwork from past productions, and awards and certificates, framed with pride. Charlotte just about managed to take them all in before Don stopped outside a redwood door.

"Just through here," he said, gesturing for her to open it. Charlotte tried to rein in her excitement as she turned the handle and pushed open the door. Once she saw what was inside, the reins slipped from her grasp completely. Charlie walked forward into the little room with wide eyes. "This is where you'll be working," said Don as he followed her inside.

"Oh, wow!" Charlotte turned in circles, trying to take in everything at once. The room was small but not cramped. There was enough room for a wide desk and a comfortable chair with space left over to walk around them easily. There were a variety of supplies at her disposal, they lined the many shelves: pencils, pens, pastels, charcoals, paints, watercolours, glue, scissors, and paper, in all kinds of shapes, sizes, and colours.

Along the far wall was a wide window that stretched from one end of the room to the other. Charlie could see the quiet road in the distance and right outside was a small grassy area with an array of bright flowers and a lithe, young tree. The bright sunlight shone into the room, lighting up the pots and jars on the shelves so that they cast different colours across the room. One wall was almost entirely made up of a large corkboard where she could pin her artwork.

"What do you think?"

"It's perfect." Charlotte turned back to her guide and thought she might burst with happiness. clutching her case to her chest excitedly. Don laughed and opened the door again.

"I'm glad you like it. Now, if you think you can drag yourself away, I'll introduce you to the Shermans." Charlotte  _was_  reluctant to leave the room but she wanted to meet the famed brothers too. She followed Don back out into the corridor, gently closing the door behind her, but not before taking one last look at what was now all hers.

They turned left like they were heading back to see Dolly but they turned another corner before they reached reception. Following chirpy piano music that flowed through the corridors, they eventually reached a door and Don stopped, gesturing for her to enter first. Charlotte pushed open the door, the music suddenly growing louder as she did so and stopping altogether when they entered. The room was large but quite bare, its few commodities being a scattering of chairs, a long table and a piano, behind which were two men.

"Bob! Dick! Come over here." Don waved them over, giving Charlotte a reassuring smile as the brothers drew closer. Her nervousness must have been clear on her face. "I'd like you to meet Charlotte, our new concept artist." The brothers smiled warmly, which helped to put her anxieties at ease. "Charlotte, you'll be working very closely with these two. Bob and Dick Sherman, music and lyrics."

"Hi." Bob reached forward and shook her hand. He had dark hair, bright blue eyes and a kind smile. Charlotte also noted the walking stick he leaned on and wondered whether he'd gotten it in the war. But it was rude to speculate, so she put the idea to rest.

"I've heard a lot about you two. You've done some incredible work." She told the brothers. Bob chuckled and turned to Don.

"I like her, she can stay."

"You're from England?" Asked the second brother, Dick. He looked younger and a little smilier. Unlike his brother, he had big brown eyes but the same dark hair, styled in a slightly different way.

"London, yes." Charlotte nodded as she shook Dick's hand too.

"Just like our author." Noted Bob with an excited glance at his brother. It appeared they were just as eager to meet the woman of the hour as Charlotte.

"Yes, I was wondering when I might speak with Mrs. Travers." She said, turning to Don. He shook his head.

"She'll be here in a few days. Until then, you've got some time to work with the boys." He gestured to the table where she could rest her things and she smiled brightly at them.

"Alright then." Charlotte walked to the table and placed her small case on top. "How far have you got music-wise?" As she spoke, she flicked open the buckles of her case and began to lay its contents out on the table.

"Pretty far, actually." Dick hurried back over to the piano. He raised their various pieces of sheet music in the air for her to see. "We've got an idea for most of the songs."

"Oh, fantastic!" Charlotte did like to be organised, so it brought her great joy to know that the brothers had not been idle.

"Some we've developed further than others. It's mostly chronological so it's easier for you to work with." Dick gave her this odd, eager-to-please look, like a child showing a teacher their homework. Charlotte hated unnecessary formalities, so she sat down on top of the table to show them she wasn't nearly as uptight and prim as she sounded.

"That's good to know," she said as got herself comfortable. She looked at each man in turn with raised eyebrows. "Shall we begin?"

"Yes, let's!" Don patted Bob's shoulder, sending him on his way back to the piano. He was happy to start as soon as possible. It seemed everyone was just as excited to make the film as Charlotte was.

"We thought we could play you a few of the songs, you can tell us what you think," Bob explained once he was stood next to the piano. Dick sat down on the stool so that just his head appeared over the top of the instrument.

"Then we can look over the script and you can draw up a few ideas." He grinned eagerly and Charlotte felt her worried heart begin to slow. She was still incredibly nervous but just knowing that the people she was going to be working with were so lovely helped to ease her a little.

"Sounds good to me." Dick shuffled the papers so that the right music was in front. When he was done, he looked expectantly up at Don, who pushed himself away from the wall he'd been leaning against and grabbed a script from the top of the piano.

"I'll be Bert," he told Charlotte as he found his first line. She began to laugh but settled down when Don spoke again. "All right, ladies and gents!" He called to Charlotte and an imaginary crowd in a bad Cockney accent. "Comical poems suitable for the occasion, extemporised and thought up before your very eyes. Alright, here we go!" He pointed to Dick who began to sing.

"Room here for everyone, gather around! The constable's responstable, now how does that sound?" He pounded the keys with gusto, smiling away as he acted it out with all his heart. As he sang, he seemed almost unable to contain himself with glee. Bob occasionally joined in, singing for a word or two, but he was much more controlled as he watched Charlotte for her reaction. "Ah, Mrs. Cory a story for you. Your daughters were shorter than you, but they grew!" Charlotte laughed again at the funny lyrics, much to the Shermans' surprise and delight. The music slowed down considerably and Dick began to play a little more gently now.

"This is where Bert stops and looks around. He senses what's coming," said Don, stepping forward to explain.

"Or rather, who's coming," added Bob, making Charlotte's skin prickle. What had once been cheery, marching band music, was now delicate and almost eerie. These boys were good.

"Winds in the east, mist coming in. Like something is brewing, about to begin." Sang Dick, a little lower and quieter than before. "Can't put my finger on what lies in store, but I feel what's to happen all happened before." Charlotte waited until he had played the last lilting notes of the tune before applauding.

"That was wonderful!" The three men blew a collective sigh of relief. Charlotte was the first person outside of the three of them to hear their songs. They hadn't even played them to Walt yet. It was a huge weight off their shoulders to know that the songs sounded just as good to others as they did to them.

"You liked it?" Bob asked. Charlotte shook her head in disbelief.

"It was perfect, just how I imagined it would be." Dick gave her a small smile when he understood what that meant.

"You've read the books." Charlie held his gaze for a moment and began to smile back. Then she coughed awkwardly and looked away again.

"Of course, I have. It's hard to find a person who hasn't," she said, waving his comment off. She grabbed her paper and began to sketch. "So, Don," He jumped up from his seat. "When I read your script, I really liked the idea of having the first scene out on the road." A copy of the script was sent to Charlotte's home soon after she agreed to join them so that she had a headstart on the artwork.

She continued to draw, her brow creasing with concentration whilst the brothers tried to peer over from their place by the piano, not wanting to be caught trying to sneak a peek. "I was thinking it could look a little something..." Charlotte finished the drawing and held it up for them to see. "Like this." The men stepped closer to see what she had produced. It had only taken her a couple of seconds so her drawing was quite crude, but they could clearly see the beginnings of their film in scratchy pencil markings.

"Yes, I see it," Bob murmured, his eyes roaming over the page. Charlotte looked down at her drawing and began to explain the more important details.

"This is the park here and the lovely, little houses." She drew her finger to the centre of the page where a happy looking figure wearing a one-man-band suit was surrounded by a gaggle of less detailed figures. "Then here's Bert and his crowd." She looked up, biting her lip nervously. "What do you think?"

"It looks good," Don told her, smiling brightly. He knew from the moment they met that he liked Charlotte, but now he knew she'd be perfect for the job too. She went a little red at the looks on their faces and jumped down from the table.

"It will look even better when I'm done with it," Charlie said, looking down at the paper in front of her. It needed something else, something more. She studied it a little longer before she realised the three men were still standing in front of her table with interest. "You can keep going, I'm going to work on this some more." They instantly relaxed. Don went to sit in a chair by the piano and drew out his script again, making notes here and there whilst the boys moved on to the next song that needed working on.

As Charlotte sat and drew away to her heart's content, she considered just how happy she was at that moment. With music playing in the background and the bright sunlight streaming in through the window, it was a beautiful place to be. She let out a contented sigh and tapped the end of her pencil against her lips as she studied her drawing. Charlotte thought about going back to her office to grab more supplies and was just getting out of her chair when a voice stopped her.

"Do you want something to drink?" She looked up to see Dick standing in front of the table, watching her expectantly. "Or something to eat?" Charlotte smiled at him gratefully.

"I'd love a cup of tea." He grinned.

"I'll be right back," Dick promised before hurrying out of the door. Charlotte was surprised. He'd stopped in the middle of a rehearsal to get her a drink she easily could've got for herself. A few minutes later, Dick was back with her tea. She realised he'd gone all the way to the reception to get it. "There you are," he said as he carefully passed her the mug. Charlotte hummed happily as his kind gesture warmed her hands.

"Thank you," she murmured, before taking a sip. She hadn't realised how thirsty she was. People had been offering her food and drink left, right and centre ever since she stepped off the plane and this was the first time she'd accepted the offer. She smiled up at him appreciatively. "It's Richard, yes?" He shrugged.

"Well, I go by Dick," he said, then added, "But Richard's fine, I don't mind." Charlotte gave a huff of laughter and looked down at her tea again. Dick slowly stepped from foot to foot, his hands folded behind his back. He felt shy and awkward, but he didn't quite know why. Charlotte seemed perfectly nice and had been nothing but kind to them since she stepped through the door. And she was, although he  _certainly_  hadn't put much thought into it, very pretty. Her hazel eyes were intelligent and warm, and they lit up when she smiled. She was still and poised, rarely did she fidget apart from when she tucked her curly, brown hair behind her ear. Her voice was soft but edged with a humour that tugged at the corner of her deep, red lips.

"Mm, lovely thank you," Charlotte breathed after she'd taken another sip of her tea. She stood from the desk and began to walk towards the door, mug in hand. "I'm just popping to my office." Charlotte gave him a little wave before walking to the door. Dick watched her leave, floundering a little before he finally found the words.

"D- Do you prefer Charlotte or Charlie?" He asked suddenly, returning the courtesy. Really he just wanted to find an excuse to keep talking to her. Charlotte paused in the doorway and looked back at him thoughtfully.

"I've never been given the choice before," she realised, making Dick smile. She looked at him for a moment, tilting her head to one side, and those eyes seemed to see straight through him. "Charlie," she decided at last, giving him a bright smile. "Charlie will do fine." Then she was gone.

"Okay. Good," Dick said to himself, returning the smile even if she couldn't see it. "Charlie," he murmured as he went back to the piano.


	2. Chapter 2

On her second day at the Walt Disney Studios, Charlotte had a considerably bigger spring in her step than the day before. Perhaps it was the bright sunshine or the knowledge that she had a fun day ahead of her, or merely the fact that her taxi driver hadn't been determined to travel at warp speed. That wasn't to say that the old man who brought her to work was an excellent driver. Everyone in L.A seemed set on giving her a vehicle-related injury. Charlie walked onto the lot with her head held high, sending a polite smile to the wiry guard in his cubicle on her way past. He grunted and pressed a button, lifting the barrier for her.

She was a little early, so Charlotte had time to meander down the lot at her own pace and take in more of the sights that Don had whizzed her through yesterday. Oh, she was happy. This place, it seemed to shine, like she was meant to be there. Charlotte let out a contented sigh as she walked up to the main building, swinging her case a little. Her lilac dress was new and she'd been looking forward to wearing it. She wanted to blend in with the American women, all bright smiles and perfect hair, so full of joy and excitement. Charlotte hoped that keeping up with the fashion would help her successfully integrate into Californian life. Although, she couldn't help but worry that all the smiling they did was sure to make their cheeks sore.

As soon as Charlotte entered the main building where she and her new colleagues worked, Don was there to meet her. She almost jumped with fright when he appeared out of nowhere beside her. Charlotte put a hand on her chest, trying to calm her thudding heart.

"Good morning," she breathed, giving Don a watered down version of a scolding glare. He hadn't meant to frighten her, in fact, he didn't seem to notice that he had.

"Good morning!" Don smiled broadly back at her. "Beautiful day, isn't it?" Charlotte allowed herself a small smile despite the toll of her hectic journey and her near cardiac arrest.

"It's gorgeous," she agreed as they began to walk towards the rehearsal room. She found she enjoyed the zeal that simply oozed out of everyone at the Studios. It was refreshing to work somewhere that people wanted to be. "It almost makes up for the taxi here," she added with a bitter click of her tongue. Don raised his eyebrows, his hands folded behind his back as they walked.

"An interesting journey?"

"You might say that." They turned a left and the rehearsal room came into view. Music poured out of the door, which had been flung open invitingly. "He seemed very eager to hit every curb as we went round them." The pair laughed as they passed through the open door and Charlotte immediately walked to her table, placing her case and portfolio down on its bare surface. "But, I'm here now." She sighed happily, turning to the men and clasping her hands together, ready to begin. The Sherman brothers gave her matching, excited grins as they continued to set up their space.

"Ready to get to work?" Bob was moving chairs around and out of the way, pushing them up against the walls so that no one would trip over them. He leaned heavily on his walking stick.

"Ready and raring." Charlotte watched as his brother sorted through sheet after sheet of piano music. Dick eventually managed to get them into some kind of order and put them in their rightful place. She was suddenly reminded of something she wanted to show them. Charlotte muttered to herself, reaching for her portfolio and rifling through it with deft fingers. "The first scene," she told them, turning to the right page and holding it up for them to see. "Is finished." Don eagerly stepped forward and was impressed by what he saw.

"Oh, wow," he murmured, gently taking the large book from her hands and turning the pages gingerly, afraid he might ruin her perfect drawings. The Shermans hurried over to see for themselves and were surprised by the care and detail that Charlotte had put into her art. The first scene was painstakingly drawn out, giving the set designers a perfect source to work from.

"These look great." Bob glanced between Charlotte and her drawing with a genuine smile. She was a little embarrassed by their compliments, although it was nice to know they appreciated her hard work. Charlotte coughed awkwardly and didn't meet their eyes as she carefully took her portfolio back, turning a couple of pages to show them what she'd moved on to next.

"I also began to look at costumes last night and drew up these." She held up the book again. Don's eyes widened in surprise as he took in the drawings.

"Oh, Charlotte, you shouldn't work so hard in your time off." He told her kindly. It was only her second day, for crying out loud. She shrugged her shoulders, a hard task to accomplish in the middle of jumping up and sitting on the tabletop.

"I had a burst of inspiration," she said, gently defending her love for her work. Charlotte  _had_ stayed up a little late but she was just so incredibly excited. She felt like a child on Christmas Eve and drew and drew until the stars shone. "I just looked at the children but I'll start thinking about Mary and Bert today."

"These are fantastic." Dick shook his head in disbelief as he perused her art. Charlotte remembered that endearing, crooked smile from yesterday when he had christened her with a new nickname and fought hard to not let her cheeks redden.

"Thank you," she managed to reply, a smile of her own beginning to appear of its own accord. Dick tilted his head to the side a little to go along with his question.

"Are you going to work in your office today?" Charlotte considered this for a moment. It would be nice to work in her new office. She went back to grab a few things after Dick brought her a cup of tea, but she stayed in the music room for the duration of the day. It would be much more peaceful, but the loneliness of it all swayed her vote. Charlie shook her head, tucking a stray curl of hair behind her ear.

"No, I think I'll work in here." She smiled nervously at each of the men in turn. "That is, if it's alright with you?"

"That'd be great!" Dick answered for them all, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. He instantly felt the weight of his friends' stares. Dick glanced at Don and his brother standing either side of him, twin expressions of surprise and amusement on their faces, then he looked back to Charlie, who had her eyebrows raised, a little confused by his outburst. "I mean... You know, it's fine. Great. Stay, if you like." Dick tried to sound nonchalant but failed miserably. He ducked his head and went back to the piano, sitting down on the old bench and pretending to look busy. Charlie sent Bob a questioning frown but he merely smiled before going to join his brother. Don handed her back the portfolio and was about to sit down in his favourite chair when a thought struck him.

"Oh, we had some news about Mrs. Travers." Immediately, Charlie sat up, all her attention on him.

"Oh, yes?" She didn't bother to try and hide her excitement.

"She'll be here tomorrow." He announced happily. Safe to say, they were all surprised when Charlie shut her portfolio with a heavy snap, her mouth hanging open, her eyes wide.

"Tomorrow!" She squeaked. "But... But I've only just got here myself! I haven't nearly enough to show her!"

"It'll be fine, Charlie," Bob reassured her. He shrugged carelessly, showing her that there was nothing to worry about. "The first day, she probably won't even want to see anything. She'll talk to Walt then go back to her hotel." Charlie sucked in a deep breath, squeezing her portfolio between nervous fingers.

"I better get a move on anyway," she muttered to herself, placing her work down carefully on the table and hurrying out the door. Bob chuckled as he watched her leave.

"She's nice, isn't she?" He said, turning back to his work. He began to scribble some ideas about their next song down on a spare sheet of paper. "I like her." Dick smiled to himself, his fingers tapping absentmindedly against the piano keys.

"Yeah, me too," he agreed, eyes trained on Charlie's empty desk. Bob snorted at the dreamy smile on his brother's face, knowing exactly what that look meant. Dick frowned up at him. "What?"

"Nothing," Bob replied innocently, but that knowing smile was still in place. Dick was about to press the matter further when Charlie came striding back into the room, an all manner of art supplies in her arms.

As the brothers worked by the piano, Charlotte sat at her table, doodling ideas that would soon develop into final designs. They worked well together, chatting idly as the morning went by. At around eleven o'clock, the Shermans decided to take a quick break as they'd been working all morning. Bob grabbed his cane and walked over to Charlie's desk. She looked up at him, smiling brightly. He could see why his brother acted so goofy around her.

"I'm going to get us something to eat, do you want anything?" He took a sneaky glance down at her drawings and found they were coming along nicely. She had talent, there was no doubt about it. Charlie nodded.

"I'll have whatever you're having." She paused, her eyes narrowing. "So long as it's not... Odd." It sounded ridiculous but she had been told many a horror story about how different and strange American food was. It seemed everyone in England had heard a different rumour and they all wanted to warn her. Charlie knew it was silly to believe them but she'd only been in the country for three days, she wasn't ready to try anything too out-there just yet.

"Nothing odd. You got it." Bob sent a quick look to Don who shrugged. He sprang from his seat to help him with the big order, leaving Dick and Charlotte alone. She watched the two men leave, paying particular attention to Bob's limp and the crutch he relied on. Charlie didn't want to stare but she couldn't help being curious.

"He was shot." She jumped, both surprised by Dick's sudden words breaking the silence and embarrassed to be caught staring. He nodded to the door his brother and Don had just exited through. "That's why he uses the stick." Charlie looked towards the door then back to him quizzically. Dick knew what she wanted to ask, even if she was too polite to do so. "His unit helped liberate the Dachau camp." He told her, feeling his chest swell with pride. His brother was a hero but it had cost him his leg. Charlie raised her eyebrows in surprise, her lips parting into a smile.

"Wow." She would never have guessed that about Bob. He seemed so quiet and reserved, usually letting his younger brother do the talking. She glanced at Dick, who had turned back to his music, then down at her folded hands. He had just shared something personal. It was lovely to think that he trusted her enough to tell her these things after little more than a day. She knew she should return the favour, so Charlie cleared her throat, making Dick look up from his sheet music. "My, um, my father died fighting in France when I was nine." Dick looked down respectfully, pressing his lips together.

"I'm sorry." Charlie nodded. Everyone was sorry. After the war ended, her mother tried her hardest to look after her. It had been difficult, they weren't exactly rich before but with only one income, they struggled for years. But they muddled through, just like most people did at the time. Luckily, they still had a home and neighbours who all looked after each other. But her father, who she loved dearly, was gone forever.

"They said he was getting people to safety when he was shot," Charlie told him, finding her voice growing a little stronger. "He died helping people. There's no other way he would've wanted it." Dick nodded, smiling sadly at her. Charlie gazed back at him for a moment with an impassive expression until she finally smiled back and it made his stomach somersault. They both heard the clack of Bob's cane on the floor and looked around as he and Don entered the room, their arms laden with food and drink. Don went to give Dick his order whilst Bob stood in front of Charlotte's table.

"Croissant," he said proudly, holding the pastry up for her to see. "I hope that's not too 'odd'." He carefully placed the plate down in front of her.

"That's perfect. Thank you, Bob." Charlie smiled wryly at his good-natured teasing.

"No problem." She watched him walk away, studying the way he leaned on his cane, unaware that someone was watching her too. Dick chewed his lip, worried about what she might do with the information he'd given her. But in the end, he found he had nothing to be nervous about. Charlie only smiled to herself then returned her attention to her drawing. Dick continued with his work, wanting to get as much done as possible before Mrs. Travers arrived, but every so often, when he thought no one was looking, he stole a glance at the beautiful woman sat at the other end of the room and smiled at the connection they had forged. Little did he know, Charlie did exactly the same thing.

A few hours passed and Charlie was almost done with her drawings. Designing costumes was one of her favourite parts of her job. Although, this time, it was a little different. Mrs. Travers' books had illustrations and that made Charlotte nervous. She didn't want to copy what the publishers had chosen but at the same time, Mrs. Travers had approved those designs so surely she must like them. What if she didn't like what she came up with?

Charlie chewed on her lip as she studied her drawing. Jane, Michael and Bert were relatively easy to design but then there was the lady herself. Mary Poppins was an icon. There was an incredible amount of pressure to get her just right, not only through what she looked like but through the writing and the music as well. Charlie looked up at the three men she shared the room with and was glad to see they were all at ease. Perhaps she was being too hard on herself.

She glanced at the clock on the wall and realised she hadn't looked up from her work in almost four hours. She had definitely earned a break. Don looked up from his own little drawing pad as Charlie approached and smiled at her when she sat down next to him on a spare chair. They watched the Shermans work in comfortable silence.

"What is it that you're working on?" Charlie asked after a moment, not wanting to interrupt them but unable to stopper her curiosity. Dick heard her anyway. He reached forward and held up their music over the top of the piano for her to see.

"We're writing the music for 'The Perfect Nanny'." He was glad to see her smile.

"Oh, excellent." It was one of Charlie's favourite parts in the script, when the children listed off what they wanted from their nanny.

"We've got the basic tune but it's missing something." Added Bob, his fingers drumming the arms of his chair as he thought. Charlie sat back in her own chair as she looked between them.

"What have you got so far?" She asked, hoping that she and Don might be able to help them in some way or another. Dick turned in his seat and settled himself more comfortably before clearing his throat.

"Wanted: A nanny for two adorable children." He began grandly, sending a cheeky wink to Charlie. Thankfully, she chuckled and he breathed a silent sigh of relief before he continued to play. "If you want this choice position, have a cheery disposition. Rosy cheeks, no warts! Play games, all sorts." Bob got up as his brother played and stood beside him, leaning on the top of the piano as he sang the next lines of the song.

"You must be kind, you must be witty. Very sweet and fairly pretty. Take us on outings, give us treats. Sing songs, bring sweets." Charlie nodded and turned her head to Don slightly.

"That  _is_  very important," she murmured, making the older man chuckle. Dick played a little softer, not wanting to get out of rhythm whilst he asked Charlie a question.

"Did you have a nanny growing up?" He'd heard what she said to Don and made the assumption but Charlie shook her head.

"Oh, god, no." She seemed to find the idea quite amusing. "No, we certainly couldn't afford one." Charlie gestured to Don's notepad as she continued and he nodded, passing her the book so that she could look through it. "My mother looked after me until I was eleven, then I was old enough to take care of myself and she could go back to work full-time," Charlie told them as she turned the pages of Don's notebook. Inside were little drawings, doodles of what the writer saw around him: the piano, the table with their glasses of water on it, the view outside. Charlie looked up as a thought struck her, her lips parted slightly. "Now there's a good question, where is the mother? Why can't she look after the children?" Beside her, Don shrugged.

"We don't know." There was a little sadness to his voice. Obviously, he had thought about it as well.

"I don't think it's mentioned in the books," said Bob and his brother nodded in agreement. Charlie bit her lip thoughtfully and Dick tried not to stare.

"Hm, I shall have to think about that," she said quietly. After a moment, Charlie seemed to snap out of her own thoughts and gestured for Dick to continue the song with an apologetic smile. She and Don both chuckled at the funny lyrics, which the Shermans were glad to hear. When they were done, their audience applauded.

"Oh, wow, that was wonderful," Charlie said. "Really, it was." The Shermans looked pleased. The film was targeted at all ages, from young children to adults, so it was a relief to see that their work entertained at least one of the two categories. "I'd love to hear more." Dick smiled brightly at Charlie.

"You will if you draw in here every day," he said, trying to get her to smile again and revelling when he succeeded. Charlie raised her eyebrows, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly.

"Perhaps I will then." She returned Dick's smile in such a way that Don felt like he'd stumbled into the middle of something private. The Shermans went back to their music after a short break but Charlie remained in her seat, just happy to listen to them work. After a few minutes, she felt Don shift in his chair, trying to get into a more comfortable position so he could start to doodle again.

"Hey, about their mom, I don't think you should put too much thought into it," he told her quietly. Charlie frowned, ducking her head so that they could murmur to each other without disturbing the brothers.

"You don't? Aren't you curious?" Don shrugged.

"Sure, I am. I'm sure Mrs. Banks is a wonderful lady. But sometimes, you know, the ones you love aren't always going to be there." Don didn't look up from his book, so he didn't see Charlie's face fall or her gaze drop to the floor. "That's part of the reason why Mary Poppins comes after all, isn't it?" He finally looking up. When he saw her despondent expression, Don immediately stopped what he was doing to focus on Charlie. "Are you okay?" She nodded but he knew something was wrong.

"I'm fine. I'm just, er-" Charlie cleared her throat, her fingers clenching the material of her chair tight. "I'm just going to get some fresh air." She decided finally. Charlie quickly jumped up from her seat. She didn't look back as she hurried out of the door. Don frowned as he watched her leave then turned to the brothers, who had stopped their work to see what the matter was.

"What did I say?"

* * *

Charlie kept her head down as she hurried through the corridors. Her eyes felt hot, her throat tight, but she didn't dare cry. Don's words had struck a serious chord and there was only one thing she wanted to do at that moment. Charlie quickly reached the office and gave Dolly a watery smile as she asked to use the phone. She instantly obliged with a sympathetic smile, recognising the sadness in her eyes.

Dolly left so that she could make the call in private which Charlie was thankful for. It was embarrassing enough that she'd fled from the rehearsal room so suddenly, she didn't want anyone to know why. She spoke quickly yet clearly to directory inquiries, knowing that the lines were easy to cross. There was a familiar whirring then a blunt click before she was put through. Three rings were followed by another click as the telephone was removed from the handset.

"Four, five, three, one?" Charlie smiled when she heard the voice she had missed so much.

"Mum?" Immediately, the business-like tone disappeared and was replaced by Margaret Johnson's usual, kind voice.

"Charlotte! I wasn't expecting a call from you." Charlie pushed the phone harder against her ear so that she could hear her better. The connection was bad, her mother's voice crackled through the phone, but she could just about hear her.

"I thought I'd better ring and tell you that I've arrived and that I'm all settled." She took a seat on the edge of Dolly's desk. Her mother hummed in agreement, the sound making the speaker frazzle slightly.

"Oh, good." Charlie could practically see her settling back in her old armchair. "I was worried about that American air. You know they have different diseases than we do, don't you?" Charlie rolled her eyes.

"Yes, mum," she replied routinely. Her mother, just like every other English person her age, had an entrenched belief that everything and everyone not from the surrounding neighbourhood was something or someone to be wary of. For the most part, it was just best to agree with her.

"You should be careful," Margaret continued with the well-informed tone that Charlie only ever heard after she'd been talking to their know-it-all neighbour, Mrs. Baker, a nosey and gossiping old woman. "Don't eat anything that you don't see them cooking." Charlie knew that if she talked to her mother, if only for a few minutes, she would instantly feel better. She missed her terribly, it had only been the two of them for a long time and she felt incredibly lonely without her. All she needed was to hear her mother talk, especially the usual nonsense she came out with, and she felt right as rain again.

"I'm sure it'll be fine, mum," Charlie reasoned but her mother tutted still.

"You never know with these people, Charlotte," she replied haughtily, making her laugh again. Just down the hall, Dolly smiled to herself. She hadn't gone far in case Walt needed her for anything. She was glad that Charlie was feeling better, Dolly didn't like to see anyone look as sad as she did a few minutes ago.

"I'll be okay," Charlie murmured, not realising her mistake until it was too late.

"You will be  _alright_." Charlie marvelled at her ability to get herself into trouble even when she was thousands of miles away. Margaret sighed disdainfully. "I knew going to America was a bad idea, you've already started to speak like them." She laughed again and shook her head.

"I miss you, mum," Charlie said after a moment.

"I miss you too, sweetheart," Margaret replied, a hint of worry in her voice. Charlotte sounded uncharacteristically quiet. Before she got a chance to ask what was wrong, her daughter had a question for her.

"How did the doctor's go?" Charlie choked slightly on the word but her mother instantly began to wave her off.

"Oh, I don't want you worrying about that, darling," she said airily, obviously avoiding the question. Charlotte bit her lip.

"But-"

"No buts! You have very important work to do, I don't want your head to be filled with worry." There was silence for a moment at both ends of the telephone. Her mother's illness had almost stopped Charlie accepting her new job, but Margaret insisted she accept and here she was. It wasn't often that her mother didn't get her way. Charlie looked around her, making sure that no one was listening in, then frowned, the silence having stretched on longer than she had anticipated. Then her mum spoke again, relaxing her nerves. "Have you spotted him yet?" Charlie grinned, all that worry and anxiety leaving her just as quickly as it had set in.

"Mum, I  _talked_  to him."

"How wonderful! You lucky girl. What's he like?" Charlie shook her head, leaning her weight back on her free hand and smiling to herself.

"Just as amazing as I thought he'd be," she murmured, remembering what it had been like to talk to the man who sat only a few metres from where she was now. Her mother knew about her admiration for Walt Disney, Charlie hadn't stopped talking about his films since she was a girl.

"Oh, excellent." Margaret was pleased that her daughter was finally doing something that she loved. She paused for a moment before asking, "And Mrs. Travers?" Charlie smiled to herself.

"She'll be here tomorrow."

"And you've got my..?"

"Yes, mum."

"Now, I don't want you to pressure the woman." Charlotte laughed at her mum's uncharacteristic nervousness.

"I'm sure it'll be fine." That seemed to appease her because Margaret sighed contentedly. Then she brought out the question that had been on her lips for many years.

"Now, more importantly," Charlie immediately knew how her sentence was going to end and dreaded every word of it. "Have you found yourself a husband yet?"

"Goodbye, mum!" Charlie laughed, tactfully avoiding her mother's favourite question. Margaret chuckled too, glad that she had cheered up her only daughter.

"Goodbye. Call again soon." Charlie nodded, even if she couldn't see her.

"I will, I promise." And she meant it, she truly did. Her mother was the most important person in her life and she'd be lost without her. Charlie smiled sadly and slid off Dolly's desk. "Bye." Her mother repeated the word back to her and then she was gone.

Charlie shook her head and carefully placed the phone back on the handset. She felt better, Don's words had really knocked her for six. Charlie took in a long, calming breath and was about to walk back to the music room when she heard someone call her name.

"Charlie?" She turned to see Dick standing in the office doorway, his face wrought with concern. "Are you okay?" Charlie smiled reassuringly at him.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine." Dick looked relieved. She didn't know why but knowing he had worried about her made her heart flutter.

"It's just you ran off pretty fast," he said, gave her another crooked smile as he stepped further into the room and stood next to her by the desk, his hands shoved awkwardly into his trouser pockets.

"No, I'm fine, really I am." Charlotte nodded down at the machine on Dolly's desk. "I just got off the phone with my mother."

"Oh, yeah?"

"She wants me to get Mrs. Travers' autograph. She sent me here with her love and her old copy of 'Mary Poppins'." She explained, knowing that she'd never hear the end of it if her mother ever found out that she'd revealed her secret. Dick was surprised.

"Really? She likes them too?" Charlie thought for a moment, her fingers tracing shapes on the wooden desk.

"I think... I think they're the sort of books that anyone can read." Dick nodded his head enthusiastically.

"I totally agree." He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the rehearsal room. "Me and Bob read them together when we were kids and our dad heard us reading aloud one day and asked to see what it was. He read the whole book from cover to cover in five minutes flat." They both laughed and Dick was glad that Charlie was feeling better about whatever it was that had made her leave the room in such a hurry.

They left the reception after Charlie thanked Dolly for allowing her to use the phone. They walked back to the music room in a comfortable silence until Charlie looked up at him, a nervous look on her pretty face.

"What do you think she'll be like, Richard?" She asked quietly. Dick thought for a moment before smiling radiantly back at her.

"I'm sure she's going to be wonderful."


	3. Chapter 3

Bob rolled his eyes when he saw his brother fretfully peer at the front entrance to the Studios again, even standing on his toes to get a better look. It was late in the morning, almost midday, and Mrs. Travers would be arriving any minute. They were all waiting impatiently for their author, dressed in their best suits in an attempt to impress her. Well, they were all there except Charlie. Dick looked down at the other end of the lot, wondering if she might have come through the back entrance, but there was still no sign of her. He turned back to the main gate, chewing the inside of his cheek nervously.

"You look like a meerkat," Bob pointed out, watching the way his brother anxiously looked about with an amused smile. When Dick didn't laugh, he shook his head. "Don't worry, she'll be here soon." Dick still looked concerned.

"She doesn't seem like the kind of person who likes to be late," he replied quietly, glancing back the other way again. Bob shared a knowing look with Don when something over the writer's shoulder caught his eye.

"Here she is!" He pointed to the main entrance of the lot. They all turned to see what he was talking about and were relieved to find Charlie walking towards them as quickly as her manners would allow. Dick probably could have done a better job of hiding how happy he was to see her. He knew how much Charlie wanted to meet Mrs. Travers, she would've been miserable if she missed her.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't get a taxi," Charlie gasped once she met them on the steps. She rested her hands on her hips and sucked in a huge breath, trying to get her lungs working properly again. "Am I late?"

"You're just in time," Don told her, much to Charlie's relief. "She's on her way." She grinned breathlessly despite her frantic morning. Her hair was all over the place, her makeup was a little smudged, and her new dress needed adjusting from where she'd been running, but she was happy and nothing could ruin that.

"How exciting," Charlie gushed as she tried to sort out her appearance as quickly and effectively as possible. Don and Bob moved away to stand watch but Dick stayed with Charlie as she straightened out her clothes. "Good morning," she said brightly and Dick grinned.

"Good morning! How're you feeling?"

"Good, actually. Very good." Charlie nodded as she reached up to sort out her hair. Her curls had come loose from the perfect bun she had twisted them into earlier that morning. Dick watched as she expertly fixed her hair with no small amount of admiration. "You?"

"Better now." He immediately realised his mistake. Charlie raised her eyebrows in surprise and Dick baulked. "Better... Better now that Mrs. Travers is going to be here soon." He clarified. "I've-  _We've_ been really nervous." Charlie finished straightening herself out and began to search for her case and portfolio which she'd dropped in her hurry.

"It'll be fine. Like you said, I'm sure she's going to be wonderful." She told him kindly as she scanned the ground, swivelling in circles before she finally spotted them. Dick was just helping her gather up her things when a sleek black car pulled into the lot. The four figures immediately formed a line, almost like they were standing to attention. As the car pulled up next to them, Don and Dick bent down to wave to the woman seated in the back. "Here we go," Charlotte murmured to herself as the driver quickly jumped out of his seat.

"I'll get that, sir!" He cried, stopping Don from opening the door as he rounded the car. Charlie glanced quickly up at Dick who stood on her right and found that he was already looking at her. Her nervousness must have been showing because he gave her an encouraging smile before they both returned their attention to the author.

"Good morning, Pamela!" Don greeted their guest with gusto. Mrs. Travers frowned at him as if he had two heads.

"It is so discomfiting to hear a perfect stranger use my first name. Mrs. Travers, please." She told him firmly, surprising them all with her coldness. She was a petite woman of around sixty with tight brown curls and a turned down mouth that made her appear constantly disenchanted with her surroundings. Don blinked once or twice in surprise but quickly caught himself again.

"I do apologise, Mrs. Travers," he said hurriedly. "I am Don DaGradi, the scriptwriter."

" _Co_ -scriptwriter." Mrs. Travers corrected him. "I shall certainly be having my say, Mr. DiGraydi."

"Da _Gradi_." It was Don's turn to correct her when she mispronounced his name, although she didn't seem all that bothered. Charlie saw the brothers share an uneasy glance out of the corner of her eye. "Uh, wonderful! I welcome your input."

"If indeed we ever sign off on a script." Mrs. Travers gave Don a strange, tight smile that made him a little nervous.

"Right, uh..." He faltered, suddenly finding himself at a loss for words. This woman was not at all what he'd expected. Don suddenly remembered he hadn't introduced the trio beside him and swept an arm to the side, his easy smile back in place. "This is the rest of your team. This is Dick and Bob Sherman, music and lyrics, and Charlotte Johnson-Liddle, our concept artist. Guys, the one and only Mrs. P. L. Travers, creator of our beloved Mary."

"Poppins," added Mrs. Travers. Don laughed falsely, trying to keep his smile in place.

"Who else?" He joked, glancing uneasily between Mrs. Travers and the others.

"Mary Poppins. Never  _ever_  just Mary," she told him resolutely before moving on. Mrs. Travers shook Charlie's offered hand and gave her a polite smile. "Pleasure to meet you." She moved down the line, taking Dick's hand and then Bob's. "Though I fear we shan't be acquainted for too long." Bob frowned, still in the process of shaking her hand.

"Why is that?" The author pursed her lips and tilted her head.

"Because these books simply do not lend themselves to chirping and prancing." Mrs. Travers shook her head. "No, certainly not a musical." She smiled briefly at Charlie again before looking back to Don. Mrs. Travers seemed so certain of herself that for a moment, they wondered if perhaps they'd misunderstood the premise of the film. No, surely not, Mary Poppins just had to be a musical. Charlie opened her mouth to speak but found she wasn't sure what to say.

If Mrs. Travers saw Bob and Dick's faces fall, she certainly didn't show it, or perhaps she didn't care. It wouldn't surprise Charlie. This woman was a lot sharper and stonier than she thought she'd be. "Now, where is Mr. Disney? I should so much like to get this started and finished as briskly as is humanly possible." Mrs. Travers looked at the musicians expectantly. "Perhaps one of you can point me in his direction? I'd be so grateful." Dick pointed the way to the main office like she asked and Mrs. Travers smiled. "Thank you." She began to walk in the direction he indicated, leaving the four mystified friends behind.

"We were hoping to give you a little tour of the studio," Don called after her. Mrs. Travers stopped and shook her head.

"No, thank you," she said, polite yet firm, a very English tone that Charlie knew well. Don's smile faltered and he shrugged his shoulders a little.

"Walt just wanted to show the place off." He tried hard not to sound as disappointed as he felt. Mrs. Travers bowed her head and gave him a stern look.

"No one likes a show-off," she said in a tone usually reserved for mothers talking to their young children. Then she was off again, striding down the lot. Mrs. Travers appeared so confident, it didn't matter that she didn't know where Disney's office was. She walked like she owned the place, her head held high. Don looked helplessly at the others before he hurried after the author.

"Mrs. Travers, it's quite a long way!" Charlie heard him call as he tried to catch up with the woman. The three left behind all stared after them in varying stages of shock and confusion. Dick looked at his brother and Charlie fearfully.

"Not a musical?" He repeated Mrs. Travers' words and Charlie shook her head. She wanted to reassure him but she couldn't be certain. Mrs. Travers seemed adamant but surely she was mistaken? They suddenly realised they were being left behind and hurried after Don, who was trying to persuade Pamela into one of the lot's golf carts. She and Don sat in front whilst Bob, Dick and Charlotte all squeezed onto the back seat.

"I am perfectly capable of walking." Mrs. Travers grumbled as they sped off down the lot, the little car whirring happily. As they rounded a sharp bend, Mrs. Travers reached up and grabbed onto the roof of the car to stop herself from falling out, but Charlie, who was sat on the far seat, didn't have anything to hold onto. In fact, she would have toppled out of the cart if it weren't for Dick.

"Woah!" He quickly reached forward and wrapped an arm around her waist to pull her back into her seat. He chuckled as he looked down at her, his arm still around her middle. "You good?" Charlie laughed too.

"Yes, I'm... Good," she replied, repeating his words hesitantly. They sounded odd coming from her, Charlie's mother clearly didn't have to worry about her starting to speak like an American if it all sounded like that. As they sped through the lot, all of Charlie's anxieties about Mrs. Travers were forgotten and replaced by a very different worry. All she could think about was Dick's arm still wrapped protectively around her waist to keep her steady and how natural it felt to be so close to him.

Thankfully, she didn't have time to ponder over it for long because as soon as the golf cart stopped, Mrs. Travers jumped out, wanting to get away from the vehicle as quickly as possible. She marched up the steps to the main building, somehow knowing the way without their guidance. They followed Mrs. Travers through to reception where Dolly immediately jumped up from her seat.

"Good morning." She greeted them with her usual beaming smile, blissfully unaware of the whirlwind that had just walked into her reception.

"Good morning, Dolly-" Don's reply was drowned out by Mrs. Travers'.

"Could you let Mr. Disney know I have arrived, please?" Dolly didn't look at all fazed by Mrs. Travers' abruptness. She had obviously experienced her fair share of awful people, having worked as a secretary there for some time. Charlie couldn't help but envy her nerves of steel.

"Absolutely, please have a seat," she replied with practised politeness but Mrs. Travers shook her head.

"Oh, no. There's no need," she said, making Dolly falter a little. Behind Mrs. Travers, Dick, Bob and Charlie stood around awkwardly, just trying to wrap their heads around the author. She was certainly a shock to the system. Dolly glanced at Don, silently asking for help and he stepped in.

"He'll be just a moment, Mrs. Travers." He gestured to the seats available. "Why don't we sit?" Mrs. Travers didn't seem all that impressed. She tutted irritably but sat down all the same. Charlie looked around and noticed that the Shermans had managed to slip away unnoticed. They'd obviously taken one last reproachful glance at Mrs. Travers and retreated back to the rehearsal room. They would claim they wanted to get back to work but Charlie knew they just wanted to get out of Mrs. Travers' way. Don had noticed their disappearance too and looked a little panicked, not wanting to be left alone with the curmudgeonly author, so when Charlie tried to sneak away after the Shermans, he caught her arm and pulled her onto the sofa next to him. Charlie cursed under her breath but didn't try to escape again, choosing to begrudgingly straighten out a crease in her dress instead whilst Don warned the author.

"A word of advice, Mrs. Travers, if I may?"

"You may," she replied curtly. "Whether I heed it or not will be another matter entirely." Don felt slightly dazed by her sharp words.

"Wow," he murmured, making Charlotte smile slightly. "Um, it's just that he can't stand being called 'Mr. Disney'. We're all on a first name basis here," he explained, giving Mrs. Travers the same warning he had given Charlie on her first day. She wasn't able to see the author's most likely very unimpressed expression because a loud cough caught all their attentions. Don and Charlie instantly sprang to their feet at the sound, knowing exactly what it signified whilst Mrs. Travers stood up a little slower, her bag clutched tightly to her chest. Walt Disney suddenly rounded the corner and beamed at them all.

"Well, there you are at last!" He hurtled towards Mrs. Travers, startling her with his energy. "Oh, my dear gal! You can't imagine how excited I am to finally meet you!" Walt took her hand in his warmly. Mrs. Travers faltered a little, put off by this bundle of kinetic energy.

"Well, it's an honour, Mr. Disney," she replied politely. He frowned, shaking his head.

"Oh, Walt. You gotta call me Walt," he told her, just as Don said he would. "Mr. Disney was my old man. Isn't that right, Don?" The writer grinned.

"Absolutely, Walt." Disney turned to Charlie and it felt like a spotlight was shining on her.

"And Charlotte, lovely to see you again," he said kindly. Charlie couldn't quite manage words, so she chose to beam back at him just as warmly instead. Walt gestured for Mrs. Travers to follow him, still talking a mile a minute, and ushered the author into his office. The door clicked shut without a backwards glance from either of them. Don and Charlie stood, slightly slack-jawed, not sure whether or not they had imagined all that had transpired in the last five minutes.

"Well..." Charlie said after a considerable silence. "She seems..."

"Uh huh." Don's eyes were wide behind his square glasses. He shook his head as if trying to wake himself from a daydream. "C'mon."

As soon as they walked through the door of the rehearsal room, Charlie and Don were bombarded with questions from the brothers. Bob was far more animated than Dick, who looked more despondent than angry.

"Did she mean it?" Bob demanded. "Really? Not a musical?" Don raised his hands, trying to calm his friend down.

"Maybe she was confused?" He offered, but Charlie snorted as she walked past them.

"She seemed pretty certain to me," she said bitterly. Bob grunted his agreement then launched another question at Don but Charlie barely heard him. She saw Dick wander over to the window, his hands in his pockets. She'd never seen him look so serious before, he was usually so bright and cheery. Charlie glanced back at Don and Bob, who were still deep in conversation, then went to stand beside Dick, who was looking pensively out of the window, not getting involved in the brewing argument they had their backs to.

"This has to be a mistake. That cannot be Mrs. Travers!" Bob banged his walking stick on the ground. "How can anyone that... That  _rude_  write a book like 'Mary Poppins'? A children's book!" Charlie heard Don trying to offer some sort of consolation but she tuned them out, choosing instead to focus on the younger Sherman.

"Are you alright?" She asked quietly. Dick looked up at her and seemed to come away from whatever it was that had kept him so thoughtfully silent.

"Yeah, yeah, she's just..." He glanced towards the door, not knowing what to say. Charlie smiled sadly.

"Not quite what you were expecting?" Dick smiled sheepishly and looked back out of the window at the cars and trees and people below. The studio lot was always so busy, there was always something going on. Part of him wanted to step outside for a breath of fresh air but he doubted that it would help.

"Yeah," he murmured, his clever fingers toying with the window latch just for something to do. Charlie nodded and turned to look out the window as well.

"Me too," she told him softly. It was a shame that Mrs. Travers wasn't the person they thought she would be. But then again, they'd only spent ten minutes together. Perhaps she was just nervous? Charlie had certainly felt that way upon entering the Studios for the first time. Mrs. Travers would probably be much more agreeable once she'd settled in. Charlie shrugged, stubbornly trying to come up with an answer that would cheer Dick up. It was selfish, but she'd come to enjoy seeing him smile. "It's probably just nerves. This is all new to her, isn't it?" She gently nudged his arm, hoping it would encourage him a little if nothing else. "She might surprise us." He finally smiled and it helped to loosen the nervous knots in her stomach.

"I hope you're right." Dick smirked at her in a way that made her face feel a little hot. Charlie let out a long breath and nodded her head, trying to make out that she wasn't the least bit flustered.

"So do I." When Dick chuckled, Charlie bit her lip to keep back her proud smile. She'd successfully cheered him up and he was incredibly grateful. Neither of his colleagues seemed to have noticed his despondency, not even his brother, but Charlie had. She noticed, and the thought made him impossibly happy. Feeling much more encouraged by her words and consequently a lot braver, Dick gave her a kind, although slightly timid smile.

"You look... You look lovely today," he told her quietly. Charlie looked away from the window and back at him, clearly surprised. Before he could say anything to retract his words, she gave him a sly smile.

"I look lovely every day, Richard." He immediately tried to backtrack, his words tumbling out in a jumble before he managed to get them into some kind of order.

"I know! I know, it's just today, maybe you seem, uh..." Charlie reached out a gentle hand, her fingers squeezing his shoulder reassuringly.

"I was joking. It's alright, don't panic," she teased, that red smile of hers as enticing as ever. "Thank you, you look rather handsome yourself," she added, looking him up and down before walking away to talk to Don. Charlie didn't look back, determined not to let him see her delighted smile.

"Right, right, okay," Dick mumbled awkwardly. He watched her walk away with a dopey smile, trying and failing to stop his gaze wandering. He only just about stopped himself from banging his head against the wall, frustrated with his own inarticulacy. Mrs. Travers bustled her way into the room a second later. Charlie wasn't sure what to do with herself. She touched Don's elbow to get his attention whilst he set up the tape recorder that had been brought in. Apparently, one of Mrs. Travers' many stipulations was that she wanted every reading of the script and every point she made on tape, so Walt had complied.

"Don, I don't know if I should stay." Charlie glanced nervously at Mrs. Travers. She was settling herself down at what was usually her desk, but it was now covered with an all manner of food that Dolly had brought in, the scripts they were reading from, and the clunky tape recorder. Don sighed as he jabbed at a button on the machine, obviously perturbed about using the thing at every meeting.

"It's up to you, but I think we might need the moral support." He nodded at the Shermans, who were talking quietly amongst themselves at the table. Charlie nodded then left him to the machine. She thought about staying, she could sit in a chair and do her work, but her quiet, comfortable office called to her like a siren. She was on the fence, right up until Mrs. Travers spoke again.

"What is all this... Jollification?" She squawked, gesturing disdainfully at the food Dolly was laying out for them on the table.

"We have a whole script to get through," Don said, and Charlie could hear the annoyed layer to his voice even if Mrs. Travers couldn't. He sat down in a chair and shuffled his papers. "It's gonna be a long day Mrs. T. Mrs... Mrs. Travers." He faltered under the heated look the author shot him.

"We could save a starving country with benefaction from this room alone!" Mrs. Travers shook her head in disgust. "It's just- Ugh. It's so vulgar." Right, problem solved, her mind was made up. Charlie couldn't sit there and listen to Mrs. Travers complain any longer. She was just on her way towards the door when a voice called after her.

"Charlie?" She winced, knowing that her chances of leaving were quickly diminishing. She turned on her heel to face Dick, the one who had stopped her. "Are you leaving?" His dark eyes were so big and pleading she felt her heart melt.  _Damn_. Charlie glanced towards the door and freedom then back at the table, where all three of her colleagues were now giving her matching, begging looks. She sighed, shoulders slumped in defeat.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," Charlie promised before she turned and walked from the room. Dick watched her leave with a relieved smile but was soon called back to attention when his brother kicked his ankle under the table.

"Could you turn on..?" Mrs. Travers pointed to the tape recorder. Don jumped up and made sure that the machine was recording then nodded to the author. She cleared her throat and raised her eyebrows at the men. "Now, let us begin," Mrs. Travers announced and they eagerly turned the pages of their scripts. Don began to read the scene heading aloud but so did Mrs. Travers. Dick and his brother watched awkwardly as both writers fought to be heard over the other. "Scene one. Ext. Cherry Tree Lane." Pamela was the first to relent but only to ask a question. "Ext.? What's ext.?"

"Exterior," Don explained patiently. "It means the scene takes place outside."

"Oh, I see, it's an abbreviation." Mrs. Travers made a note in her script then peered at Don. "Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. DaGradi. Did you feel you should..?" Don desperately wanted to take control of his script but he knew he'd never hear the end of it if he did. Instead, he smiled thinly at the author.

"Oh, please be my guest, Mrs. Travers," he offered, much to the Shermans' relief. Mrs. Travers nodded.

"Yes, I do think it's best. I have the most practice. Readings of my books, you know?" Don pressed his lips together.

"Absolutely." Mrs. Travers didn't seem to recognise the disdain in his voice, either that or she ignored it.

"Anyway," she continued briskly. Dick glanced up as the door swung open and Charlie walked back in, paper and pencil in hand. She caught his eye as she settled in a chair behind Mrs. Travers and sent him a warm smile of encouragement. "Scene one. Exterior. Seventeen Cherry Tree Lane. London. Day... Yes, that's good, that can stay." Mrs. Travers' words knocked him back into reality and he frowned at the older woman.

"That's just the scene heading," Dick told her, but Mrs. Travers ignored him.

"Though I do think we should say ' _Number_  Seventeen', instead of just 'Seventeen'. It's proper, yes?" Bob and Dick both sighed.

"No one's gonna see it," they said simultaneously, making Charlie glance up, surprised at the irritation in their voices. Mrs. Travers pursed her lips.

" _I_  will see it." Charlie couldn't help but think the power of being co-writer had gone to her head. "Write it down. Write it down, chop chop." The boys could do nothing but obey. "Is that on the tape? We got that?" Don checked the machine yet again.

"Ah, yes."

"Very good." Mrs. Travers nodded. She didn't look around as Dolly came back in with a trolley loaded with even more food. "Onwards."

"I'm sorry to interrupt," Dolly said quietly, reaching over and placing a tray in the centre of the table. Dick eagerly reached for a square of jelly on the end of a toothpick but Mrs. Travers' sudden exclamation made him jump.

"Is that a joke?" Dick quickly retracted his hand as he watched Mrs. Travers turn her piercing glare to Dolly.

"Excuse me?" Dolly asked politely, not sure what she'd done wrong, but Mrs. Travers was relentless.

"Do you think you are a comedienne?" Dolly glanced nervously at Don before shaking her head.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand." Dick winced, feeling very grateful that he wasn't in the secretary's shoes. Mrs. Travers heaved an exasperated sigh and reached for the tray, passing it back to Dolly.

"It's- unbelievable- in the way," she told her, muttering under her breath as Dolly took the tray back.

"I think we're all set with- With food, thank you." Don tried to soften the author's words but Dolly still looked a little stunned. Charlie's eyes were wide as she drew. She had no intention of interrupting their little meeting for fear of getting yelled at, but Mrs. Travers was unbelievable. Dick glanced at Charlie and saw she was hiding a grin behind her hand. He tried hard to suppress his own smile but didn't quite manage it. The situation was frankly ridiculous. His thoughts momentarily turned to how pretty Charlie looked today, with her hair pulled away from her face and her ruby red bottom lip caught between her teeth in concentration. But then Mrs. Travers said something that wiped the smile off his face. She narrowed her eyes at him and shook her head.

"And you, could you  _please_  pay attention to what we're doing and not whatever it is that's over my shoulder?" Dick's gaze returned to the author, his eyes wide. He shook his head desperately when he saw Charlie look up. She couldn't know that he'd been staring, he would never get over the embarrassment.

"I wasn't, I was just-" He tried, but it was too late. Mrs. Travers turned in her chair to see what he'd been looking at and locked eyes with Charlie, who still looked bewildered.

"Oh," said Mrs. Travers, before turning back to Dick and giving him a stern look. "Well, if we could please leave that sort of thing at the door. We've got work to be getting on with." In all his life, Dick had never wished that the floor would open up beneath him more than in that moment. His jaw dropped and his face turned bright red as he looked between Charlotte, who finally seemed to have cottoned on, and Mrs. Travers, who had turned back to her script again.

"I don't- That's-" He struggled to explain to Charlie, then to Mrs. Travers. "She's not-"

"Scene One. Exterior.  _Number_  Seventeen Cherry Tree Lane. London. Day," the author continued loudly, hoping to get this part over and done with as quickly as possible. Dick let his head drop into his hands, hiding his face from his colleagues and, more importantly, from Charlie. "Bert, a one-man band... Ah, yes. The rumour is that this is to be your Mr. Van Dyke. Is that right?" Don nodded excitedly, glad they were finally getting somewhere.

"We do hope so!" 

"Well, we'll see about that. It's a horrid idea." Mrs. Travers grimaced, deflating his excitement with only a few words. Bob, who seemed to be the most aggravated by her attitude, chose then to step in.

"Dick is one of the greats," he said, trying to defend their choice of actor. Mrs. Travers frowned.

"Dick Van Dyke?" Bob's fingers gripped the table edge.

"Yes," he said through gritted teeth, although from the look on her face, he knew there was no way he was going to win the argument. Mrs. Travers scoffed.

"Robert, my dear... Olivier is one of the greats. Burton, Guinness, greats without question. I can assure you-" She leaned forward and spoke loudly into the tape recorder, determined to get her point across. "I can assure you that Dick Van Dyke is not!" Mrs. Travers sighed and settled back down. She didn't seem to notice that she'd single-handedly managed to aggravate every person in the room in some way or another. "Bert, a one-man band plays to a small gathering outside the gates to the park. Bert says-" She looked up and glanced at Don. "You can do Bert." Don, glad to accept the role again, nodded his head.

"Thank you." Then to the boys, he said, "Guys, shall we give it a whirl?"

Charlotte put down her pencil and sat back in her seat. She loved to hear the Shermans play and she was glad they had the chance to share it with Mrs. Travers. Perhaps if she heard how wonderful the music was, she might change her mind about 'Mary Poppins' being a musical. The Shermans rushed to the piano, Dick settling down on the bench while Bob stood next to him, leaning his weight against the piano and off his wounded leg. Mrs. Travers looked quizzically at each man.

"What's happening? What're you doing?" Then Dick began to play, just as jovially and eagerly as when he first played the song to Charlie. Don held up his script and read aloud, excited to show Mrs. Travers what they had come up with.

"Alright, ladies and gents! Comical poems, suitable for the occasion! Extemporised and thought up before your very eyes!" He cried as Mrs. Travers watched, her expression somewhere between shock and horror. "Alright, here we go!" He gestured to the musicians who then began to sing.

"Room here for everyone, gather around! The constable's responstable. Now, how does that sound?" Dick began the next line but much to the team's surprise and dismay, Mrs. Travers shook her head.

"No, no, no, no!" She cried over the sound of the piano. "No, no,  _no_!" She slapped the table top and Dick stopped playing, the notes ending in a fumbled mess. They all looked to the author for an explanation which she gladly gave. "Responstable is not a word!" Charlie worried her lip. If made-up words bothered the writer, then she was in for a tough ride with this film.

"We made it up," Dick told her proudly, gesturing between himself and his brother, who looked about ready to slam his head against the wall. Mrs. Travers shook her head.

"Well,  _un_ -make it up," she told them simply, then looked down and scratched a very definite line through the first song in her script. Dick sent his brother an alarmed look and quickly shuffled the yellow sheet music around so that their next song, which had a somewhat inventive title, was hidden from view.

* * *

 

After hours of complaining, unnecessary questions and general rudeness, Mrs. Travers finally went back to her hotel, leaving Charlotte, Don, Bob and Dick in a state of complete and utter exhaustion. They all collapsed in chairs against the wall, hands covering their tired faces.

"Oh, my God," Don groaned. "Oh, my God." Charlie shook her head, rubbing her temples where a powerful headache was brewing.

"Forget everything I said about her being nervous. Nerves had nothing to do with it." She told no one in particular. The way her aggravation strengthened her accent amused Dick and he smiled to himself.

"Oh, my  _God,_ " repeated Don, seemingly in a state of shock. Dick sighed and leaned his head against the back of his chair.

"Tomorrow... Tomorrow will be better, I know it," he told them, determined to be optimistic, even if their author was a storm wrapped in a tweed suit. They slowly started to get ready to leave, grabbing coats and bags and other possessions from various corners of the room.

"I need a drink," Charlotte muttered bitterly to Dick on their way out, who chuckled as he pulled on his jacket.

"Me too." Once outside, the four parted ways, but Dick walked with Charlie to the main road where she would get a cab. They were waiting under a streetlamp by the side of the road when Dick had an idea, an idea that would take an immense amount of bravery on his part. He cleared his throat, earning Charlie's attention, and straightened himself up. "Hey, d'you wanna..." He shuffled his feet awkwardly, finding it hard to meet her eyes. "I dunno if maybe you'd, uh-" Charlie frowned slightly as she watched him struggle with his words. "D'you wanna go get a drink... With me?" Dick asked finally. Charlie smiled, glad that he'd finally got his words out and because she was pleased about his invitation.

"Yes," she said, much to Dick's surprise. After the fumbling way he'd asked her, he thought she'd turn him down. "Yes, I'd like that." His heart lifted in his chest but then Charlie frowned and pointed to his sleeve where his watch was hidden. "Oh, but what time is it?" Dick just about managed to read the time under the low light of the streetlamp.

"It's just gone eleven." Charlie sighed.

"We have to be back here in a few hours. I think it's best we go home to bed," she said ruefully. Dick was disappointed but nodded all the same.

"Right, yeah. Of course, yeah." He turned his gaze back out to the nearly empty road, trying to spot a taxi on the horizon. Charlie watched him for a moment, feeling disappointed. She reached out and placed her hand at the top of his arm, earning his attention again.

"But Richard, another time?" She suggested with a small curve of a smile. Dick's face immediately brightened and he nodded eagerly.

"Yeah, sure, okay." Charlie chuckled at his enthusiasm just as she saw a taxi heading their way. She flagged it down easily and told the driver the address of her hotel, then she turned back to Dick.

"Goodnight." He raised a hand in farewell.

"Goodnight." Charlie slid into the back seat and closed the door. They waved to each other again as the taxi began to move. Dick stayed by the side of the road. He waited until the cab was just a yellow dot in the distance before he pumped his fist in the air in celebration. He practically skipped back to his car, whistling 'Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious' all the way home.


	4. Chapter 4

"Hiya, Charlie!" Charlotte beamed back at Mac Stewart, the head of animation for the film, as she closed the door to his office behind her.

"Afternoon, McLaren." She'd been across the lot to the Animation Department a few times to meet with Mac. He was a tall, rounded man, with slicked-back hair and a wide smile. He was nice, if a little boisterous, and it was clear that he loved his job. Mac had invited her round that morning so that they could go over some of the work that he and his team had created, all of which was inspired by Charlie's original artwork. He frowned at her, the action causing waves of wrinkles to concertina on his forehead.

"How many times, duchess? Call me Mac," he said, making Charlie click her tongue crossly.

"I'll call you Mac when you stop giving me ridiculous nicknames," she shot back with a wry smile. He raised his hands in surrender.

"Guess I'll just have to get used to McLaren then." He raised his eyebrows. "You know, only my mom calls me that." Charlie placed her bag down on the tabletop and shrugged.

"Your mum and me." Mac's office was large and bright and filled to the brim with film cells and sketches. Both the scrap art and the drawings in use were scattered over every available surface as if a hurricane had hit the room. Mac worked there with his team of animators, all lovely and happy in their work. "How're things going?" Charlie asked, taking a seat at the table in the centre of the room. Mac shrugged, looking comically solemn.

"Well, the Ice Lady doesn't want any animation in the picture, so it looks like I'm out of a job." He stuffed his hands into his pockets as his foot scuffed the floor. Charlie scoffed at his little act but he continued to lay it on thick. "We've got all this wasted material just lyin' around." Mac looked around the room miserably. It was a wonder to Charlie how he knew where each piece of artwork for a different picture ended and another began, but he seemed to have a system that worked for him. She pouted, playing along with his little routine, then leaned forward, beginning to smile.

"Can you show me?" Charlie whispered. Mac instantly brightened.

"Sure!" He cried, excited to show her what they'd done so far. Mac dug through a pile of papers until he unearthed a large pinboard where various squares of paper were attached. He held the storyboard up for her to see. "We loved your Jolly Holiday art, duchess, real beautiful, and we came up with this." Charlie leaned in closer to see what they'd made and gave a delighted laugh when she saw penguins, of all things, dancing in a line as the pictures progressed.

"Oh, how lovely!" She took the board from him carefully, unable to hold back her elated smile. Mac shrugged modestly.

"We're pretty proud of it," he said, carefully placing the storyboard back over by the wall once Charlie was done with it. He began to dig through another pile of papers as he spoke to her. "How's things in your neck of the woods?" Charlotte sighed and looked down at her folded hands on the tabletop.

"Everyone's a little low-spirited, I'm afraid." She paused, trying to think of a tactful way to continue. "Mrs. Travers is somewhat..."

"Completely awful?" Mac finished for her. Charlie narrowed her eyes and shot him an unimpressed look.

"Difficult." She shook her head. "Being rude won't help anyone, McLaren." Mac waved her off and turned back to grab something from the pile.

"Yeah, yeah. Give these to Don, would ya?" He handed her a stack of papers. Each one was a painstakingly drawn image of the Banks' house and the streets surrounding it. "He wants to put these up on a board to show the Ice La- I mean, the enchanting Mrs. Travers." Mac corrected himself after Charlie sent him a steely glare. She hummed, unconvinced by his wide apologetic smile. Charlie sifted through the drawings, impressed by the obvious care that had gone into them.

"Well, at least these might boost morale a little." She reached the last drawing, a grand house annotated and labelled for Mrs. Travers.

"Ah, you're the only boost those guys need," Mac said as he began to bustle around his office again. Charlie slipped the drawings under her arm and picked up her bag whilst giving Mac a withering look. He pointed to her with a cheeky smile. "They're lucky fellas, I'll tell ya that." Charlie shook her head in disbelief and walked towards the door.

"Goodbye, McLaren," she called over her shoulder. He chuckled as he watched her leave.

"And I hear from the boys that Dick's the luckiest one, if you catch my drift!"

" _Goodbye_ , McLaren," Charlie repeated, then closed the door without looking back. She shook her head as she walked back down the hall. Mac was lovely, if a little ridiculous, and it was brilliant to work with him but his insinuation about Dick stuck in her mind. They were friends, good friends, and he was a wonderful man. Charlie caught herself smiling at the thought of him. Yes, fine. She supposed there had been some flirtatious behaviour between them. No, it wasn't flirtatious, it was... Well, Charlie wasn't sure what it was. But what had Don and Bob seen that she hadn't? And why did they feel the need to gossip about it behind her back?

Charlie thought about all this as she hurried down the stairs and through the corridors until she was in the rehearsal room. Dick and Bob were taking lunch at her table, which still housed their scripts and the tape recorder, much to her annoyance. Charlie loved working with the boys and she hoped they liked working with her, but if this continued, she would have to work in her office full-time, which she didn't want at all. She waved to the brothers as she walked past them.

"That man," she scoffed, nodding her head back to the way she had come.

"What man?" Asked Bob through a mouthful of sandwich. Charlie chuckled at his lack of manners as she stopped next to Don. He was setting up a series of drawing boards and was trying to arrange them in a way that might impress Mrs. Travers, just as Mac said he would be.

"Mac Stewart, the animator." Charlie ran her fingers along the edges of the pile of drawings she'd been given to hear the paper flutter. "I went upstairs to drop a few things off and he..." She paused when she caught Dick's eye, suddenly reminded of what Mac had said about him. She shook her head and looked down at the papers in her hands. "Never mind." Bob and Dick shared a confused glance but before they could ask what the matter was, Charlie changed the subject. "He said you wanted these." She held out the drawings for Don to take. He looked pleased with Mac's input and eagerly took the artwork from her.

"Wonderful. Would ya help me put them up?"

So Charlie spent the next few minutes helping Don set up his display boards. They tried hard to arrange them in as interesting a way as possible, now only too aware of how difficult it was to please Mrs. Travers. The pictures looked wonderful up on the boards but they still looked somewhat bare. Don rubbed his chin thoughtfully and turned to Charlie. "We could do with a few of your drawings up there as well." Charlie instantly clammed up, looking between Don and the boards nervously.

"So that Mrs. Travers will see them?" Dick watched her shoulders tense, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Charlie had yet to show the author her work but after her performance yesterday, she wasn't all that keen. It was Mrs. Travers' book and obviously she would want the characters to look exactly as she had pictured them, but that took a lot of work on Charlie's part. She welcomed her input, Charlie thrived under constructive criticism, but Mrs. Travers' way of doing things was very... Well, mean, and honestly, she wasn't sure if she could take it.

"Charlie, she's going to see them eventually," Bob said, somewhat unhelpfully. Charlie gave him a look but Don had to agree.

"It  _is_  your job to show us what you draw." Charlie chewed her lip again, reluctant to admit that they were right.

"Yes, I'll gladly show  _you_." She studied the drawing boards again, her mouth all twisted with worry. "It's just that Mrs. Travers is... A tough critic," she finished awkwardly. The gross understatement wasn't missed by her friends.

"She'll be fine." Don tried to reassure her but he couldn't have sounded less convincing. When Charlie and the Shermans all stared at him, he shrugged. "Well, probably not, but what does she know about art?" Charlie sighed, knowing full well that she was never going to get out of this. She couldn't put it off forever.

"Fine." She relented at last under the pleading looks they all gave her. Charlie walked to the table where the brothers were sat and picked up her portfolio, which protected her art as she went to and from work.

"Plus, you didn't get a chance to be grilled yesterday and we wouldn't want you missing out," Dick said, grinning wickedly at her. His brother nodded.

"It's a lot of fun, you'll love it." Charlie must have looked as disheartened as she felt because Dick suddenly felt guilty.

"It'll be okay." He reached over, brushing his fingers against her arm. Charlie gave him a faint smile in return, trying not to show how much she enjoyed his touch despite its brevity. She handed Don a few of her drawings, the ones she thoughtMrs. Travers might like tosee, and took a deep breath as they began to tack them up on the board.

* * *

 

"We do find it's helpful to have a visual," Don said, trying to get a smile out of the author. He pushed in the last tack then stepped back, allowing Mrs. Travers to see everything clearly. "Plus, it's fun," he added with a laugh. He sent Charlie a reassuring smile as Mrs. Travers stepped closer to the drawings, her eyes narrowing a little.

"Oh, no, no," she muttered. "No, no. Goodness me, no." Charlie felt her heart sink. She wasn't happy with the drawings Mac and his team had worked so hard on.

"No?" Asked Don cautiously, glancing at the Shermans and Charlotte. Mrs. Travers shook her head.

"The Banks' house doesn't look like that! No, no. My house is a terraced house with a pink door," she told them, raising her hands to help her picture her home. "White bricked with a crack in the gable-"

"Okay, we get it," interrupted Bob sharply. "The house is not what you pictured." They all stared at him. His colleagues were surprised by his abruptness but Mrs. Travers looked confused, as if she couldn't believe she'd been interrupted.

"The windows are lead-lined and the flower boxes grow pink nasturtiums to go with the pink door," she continued, making sure to look directly at Bob as she spoke so that he knew she was cross with him. She looked over at the tape recorder. "We got that?" They all nodded and the author turned back to the drawings. "Oh, dear, it's all a big mistake. It's all wrong." 

"It's  _all_  wrong?" Mrs. Travers threw her hands in the air.

"Well, it's too grand! The Banks' are normal, everyday sort of people." She tapped the drawings. "This isn't normal, this isn't everyday. They're not aristocrats!" Charlie had to agree with Mrs. Travers there, the Banks' weren't wealthy people and the house did seem a little opulent. She glanced at her friends and was glad to see them nodding as well. They too understood what Mrs. Travers was trying to tell them.

The author moved along to the next board, reaching for her teacup as she went. Dolly had somehow been appointed Carrier of the Tea and dutifully followed Mrs. Travers wherever she went, clutching the teacup and saucer as if her life depended on it. Charlie held her breath as the author studied her artwork: the drawings of Jane and Michael, and Mary Poppins' umbrella, the head of which was shaped like a bird with a hooked beak. Charlie was particularly proud of these drawings, but what if Mrs. Travers hated them? What if she'd got it all wrong? But the author merely nodded and sipped her tea. "Okay," she murmured before moving on to the next board. As Charlie let out a long breath, Dick leaned over to speak near her ear.

"See," he whispered, relieved that Mrs. Travers had been as pleasant as they promised she would be. Charlie sent him a weak smile. She was pleased too but her nerves hadn't quite recovered yet. Then Mrs. Travers spoke and she felt anxious all over again.

"Oh, do I even have to say it?" Charlie knotted her fingers together behind her back, clinging on for dear life.

"Then again," she muttered to Dick, who bit his lip in worry. Charlie was a grown woman and could take any criticism the author threw at her, but that didn't mean it wouldn't hurt to see her hard work dashed in an instant.

"Um, I'm afraid so." Don laughed nervously. Mrs. Travers narrowed her eyes at the four of them. She was standing in front of a drawing of the children's mother.

"Why in the world have you made Mrs. Banks a silly Suffragette?"

"I wonder if Emmeline P. would agree with that adjective?" Bob shot back. Charlie knew from the weariness of his tone that he couldn't take much more of the author's attitude. Mrs. Travers scoffed.

"Quite possibly, looking back." Charlie cleared her throat and realised that this would be the first time she would speak to the author directly.

"It was our idea, Mrs. Travers," she owned up, gesturing between herself and Don. The author looked around again and frowned at her.

"It's Charlotte, isn't it?" When Charlie nodded, Mrs. Travers gestured for her to continue.

"You see, we couldn't help but wonder why Mrs. Banks was never with the children in your books." Don nodded, eager to back Charlie up.

"It does seem strange that Mrs. Banks allows her kids to spend all of their time with the nanny when she doesn't have a job to speak of," he added, trying to be helpful. Mrs. Travers wrinkled her nose at the pair of them.

"Are you calling Mrs. Banks neglectful?"

"Yep," Bob said instantly but Don was quick to step in.

"No! Of course not!" 

"Not at all, Mrs. Travers." Continued Charlotte. "It's just that, well..." She trailed off and looked to Don for help.

"We just thought that giving her a job would go some way to explaining-" He tried, but Mrs. Travers had heard enough.

"Being a mother  _is_  a job," she told them crossly. "It's a very difficult job and one that not everyone is up to, one that not everyone should have taken on in the first place!" She walked towards Charlie's table and spoke directly into the microphone connected to the tape recorder. "And I won't have her called Cynthia! Absolutely not. It feels unlucky." She pouted her lips as she sat down on the edge of the table. Charlie noticed Bob moving away from them to take a seat but looked back to the author when she spoke again. "It needs to be something warm, something a bit, I don't know... Sexy." She didn't notice their collective wince. "How about Mavis?"

"Uh..." Don drew out his uncertain syllable until he thought up a better idea. "Sybil?"

"Great," muttered Bob from his chair.

"Prudence?"

"Gwendolyn?"

"Perfect." 

"Winifred?"

"Winifred," Dick repeated, looking to Don for confirmation. "Winifred?" He nodded then looked to Charlie to see if she liked it.

"I could go with Winifred," Don agreed when Charlie smiled. Mrs. Travers clasped her hands together, feeling quite pleased with herself.

"That's because it's very good," she said smugly, getting up from the table again to look at the last few pictures. After a nod from Don, Charlie stepped forward and rubbed out the character name she had written at the top of the drawing, replacing it with her new one.

"Winifred," she murmured to herself as she wrote the name. She liked it, it suited her. Charlie quickly stepped back as Mrs. Travers looked at the board again. The author shook her head briskly and turned to them looking horror-stricken.

"This isn't Mr. Banks. This isn't him." She seemed quite outraged by Charlie's drawing. Don leaned forward, misinterpreting Mrs. Travers' words.

"Uh, yes, that's Mr. Banks," he reassured her but Mrs. Travers still looked livid.

"But he has a set of moustaches!" Don looked to Charlie for help before shrugging his shoulders.

"In the books he has-"

"I told the illustrator I didn't like the facial hair but she chose to ignore me," Mrs. Travers said curtly. "Now, this time around, this is my film and I shall have my way." Charlie understood where Mrs. Travers was coming from, but this drawing was different to the others. She had been under strict instructions when drawing Mr. Banks.

"Under different circumstances, I would agree with you, however..." She tried to explain but luckily Dolly stepped in when she couldn't think of the right words.

"Mrs. Travers, this is a specific request from Walt." Mrs. Travers frowned and looked back to Charlie and Don.

"Why?" She demanded. Charlie faltered, she hadn't expected this kind of reaction at all.

"Um, well, er..." she mumbled. Don looked down at the floor awkwardly.

"Well, I think he identifies-"

"He didn't, he doesn't," she said abruptly. "Mr. Banks is clean-shaven!"

"Does it matter?" An angry voice called across the room. Mrs. Travers' mouth shut with a snap and she glared at Bob, the one who had addressed her so impolitely. Charlie closed her eyes, praying that he wouldn't say anything too antagonising.

"Bob," Dick warned him, trying to be the peacekeeper, but Bob couldn't put up with Mrs. Travers' harsh and unreasonable words any longer.

"Does. It. Matter." He slowly repeated himself, glaring at the Mrs. Travers as if to challenge her.

"Bob," Don tried, but it was too late. Mrs. Travers seemed to have gotten over the shock of being addressed so rudely and pointed to the door.

"You can wait outside!" She ordered, scolding Bob like a schoolboy. He seemed surprised that she would resort to that sort of thing and looked to the others for support, but they stayed silent for fear of meeting the same fate. "I shan't say it again, Robert." Charlie thought Mrs. Travers' icy gaze might bore a hole through the musician. Bob looked furious but got up all the same, angrily grabbing his crutch and limping out of the room as fast as he could. He swung the door open so hard that it collided with the wall. Charlie wasn't sure where he was headed, she doubted even he knew in his state. Mrs. Travers frowned as she watched Bob leave then moved back to the table. "What is wrong with his leg?"

"He got shot," Dick told her, hoping to inspire some sort of empathy but Mrs. Travers didn't seem at all moved. In fact, she seemed less impressed by the man than she already was.

"Hardly surprising," she muttered. Charlie saw Dick's hands ball into fists at his sides. "Can I expect any more drama from anyone else?" They stayed silent but the new tension in the room made Charlie uneasy. As much as she was enjoying watching Dick's jaw clench angrily out of the corner of her eye, she knew she should try and calm them all down.

"Mrs. Travers," She finally managed to tear her gaze away from Dick's lovely jawline and focus on the matter at hand. "Why don't you come with me to my office and I'll show you some more ideas?" Charlie suggested, thinking that it would be best to remove the catalyst from the room as quickly as possible before anything else could go wrong. Mrs. Travers didn't seem all that impressed by her proposal but nodded all the same.

"Fine," she agreed quietly, as if she was only giving in because she had nothing better to do. Charlie led Mrs. Travers to the door and let her exit first so that she could glance back at her colleagues and give them an encouraging smile that only Dick returned properly. She led Mrs. Travers through the corridors to her office, just as Don had done for her a few days ago when she first arrived.

"It's just this way," Charlie told her as they neared the office. They stopped at the redwood door. As Charlie bent to slot her key into the lock, Mrs. Travers asked,

"How did you come to be here?" It surprised Charlie that she would be interested in her personal life, so it took her a moment to respond.

"Working for Walt?" Mrs. Travers tilted her head disappointedly.

"What else would I mean?" Charlie finally unlocked the door and held it open for the writer as she spoke.

"I work for a Publishing House back in London. I'm an illustrator." Mrs. Travers was the first person to hear this story, or at least, the first person to ask, which was what surprised Charlie the most. "I heard people talking about a position that had just opened up in California. Disney wanted fresh faces and fresh ideas so word had spread far and wide." She pulled out a chair from under her desk and patted it invitingly. "Here, please sit down," she offered and Mrs. Travers did just that.

"Thank you." It occurred to Charlie that she seemed like a completely different person to the one who had just grilled them in the rehearsal room.

"I applied and they accepted," Charlotte continued her story as she bustled about her office, which was a damn sight tidier than Mac's. She spotted her mother's copy of 'Mary Poppins' and quickly pushed it under a pile of papers. She didn't think now was an appropriate time to ask for Mrs. Travers' autograph. Then she found what she'd been looking for. "I flew here a few days later. I've only been here a little while longer than you have."

"And how're you finding it?" Asked Mrs. Travers as she looked about Charlie's office. It certainly was a lovely space, with bright colours and neat piles of paper. Everything was very organised and in its place.

"Different," Charlotte replied slowly. Mrs. Travers raised an eyebrow curiously.

"Good different?" Charlie twisted her mouth.

"Not all of it," she said honestly, thinking back to the busy roads and bad smells and a large majority of the citizens who were quite rude. "But it's not without its merits," she added, feeling guilty about putting the city down since she currently lived and worked there. In truth, her work was just one of the many things she was enjoying about her stay, that and the people she worked with. Mrs. Travers looked down at the desktop and studied the little doodles of the children's outfits that currently sat there from where Charlie had been working on them earlier

"I feel the same way," she murmured, almost to herself. Then she seemed to snap back to reality and looked expectantly up at Charlie. "Now, what did you want to show me?" Charlie quickly opened her other portfolio which stored the drawings she hadn't shown the guys yet.

"Er, here!" She found the specific piece she was looking for and carefully slipped it out of its plastic cover. "I wanted to show you Bert." It was a complete, finished drawing of what the character would look like. Every detail was there, right down to the chimney brush in his hand and the soot on his face. Charlie bit her lip as she watched Mrs. Travers study the drawing, suddenly feeling quite awkward just standing there.

"Have you heard who they want to play him? Dick Van Dyke." Mrs. Travers scoffed eventually. She seemed pleased with her work which lifted an enormous weight off Charlie's shoulders.

"And, um... Here's Mary Poppins," she said, recalling what Mrs. Travers had said about always using the nanny's full name. Charlie paused just before passing the drawing over. She laughed nervously and looked down at her feet. "I'm rather hesitant to show her to you actually," she admitted. Mrs. Travers frowned again.

"Why?" Charlie couldn't believe that her tentativeness was surprising after her display in the rehearsal room, but she couldn't think about that now.

"I'm a big fan," she said, trying to fight her embarrassed blush and failing. "We all are." Mrs. Travers looked around at the hundreds of drawings that surrounded her, all based off of her work. She thought back to how eager this little team had been to meet her yesterday afternoon.

"Evidently," she said quietly. Charlie watched her for a moment before handing her the drawing.

"Here." Mrs. Travers gingerly took the paper. Charlie was pleased she understood how much care went into her work. The drawing was of Mary in the first costume the audience would see her in, from her little flowery hat to her peculiar umbrella, which was tucked under her arm. Mrs. Travers stared at the drawing intently, as if she were frightened that if she blinked, Mary would disappear. "Can I ask what you think?" Charlie was curious but she didn't want to push the writer.

"It's very odd... To see someone you know so well only through words suddenly being presented to you in pictures," Mrs. Travers told her softly. "It's almost like they've come to life." She studied the drawing for another moment in silence before she passed it back to her. "Very good." Charlie was so surprised, she didn't quite catch what she'd said.

"I'm sorry?" Mrs. Travers rolled her eyes.

"I said it's very good. You must learn to listen," she scolded as she got up from her chair. Charlie shook her head.

"Right, sorry," she mumbled, putting the portfolio back in its rightful place. "But you like it?"

"Yes. Well done." Mrs. Travers turned to leave, her hand resting on the door handle, but she looked back at the last second. "Don't let them change her," she said quietly. "Not one bit. She's... Precious to me." Charlie paused, her eyes searching the author's face. Then she nodded determinedly. Mrs. Travers gave her a brief smile then cleared her throat. "Good." She opened the door. "Thank you for showing me." Charlie shrugged and followed her out into the corridor.

"Nonsense, it's my job, Mrs. Travers." She smiled slightly at the older lady then paused again, not sure whether or not to say what she wanted. "If you ever need anything or if you ever want to talk, this is where you'll find me, if not in the rehearsal room." Mrs. Travers frowned at her.

"Why should I want to talk with you?" She didn't mean to be rude, she was genuinely curious as to what Charlie could offer her.

"I don't know." She shrugged her shoulders slightly. "We're from the same place, this is all new to the both of us. We're sort of in the same boat." Mrs. Travers nodded at her words.

"Hm. I suppose we are, in a way," she agreed quietly. Then she asked, "Do you have the time?" Charlie ducked her head back into her office where she knew there was a clock.

"It's quarter to five." Mrs. Travers held out her hand to the artist.

"I think I better be off now," she said as Charlie took her offered hand. She briskly shook it then nodded once. "Good evening, Charlotte," Mrs. Travers said, then turned on her heel and walked back the way they came.

"Good evening, Mrs. Travers." Charlie watched her leave then went back into her office and slumped down in her chair with a long, exhausted sigh. Had she just forged some kind of friendship with their surly author? How on earth had she managed that? Charlie let out a disbelieving chuckle as she swivelled in her seat, using her foot to sway the chair from side to side. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the headrest, taking in a calming breath.

She had work to be getting on with but right at that moment, all she felt like doing was mulling over what had transpired between her and Mrs. Travers. She wouldn't tell the boys, she felt like she shouldn't. They would just have to find their own ways to connect with the author, whether they liked it or not. Charlotte smiled and turned her head to look out at the evening sky just beginning to peep through the clouds. She sighed again and got up out of her chair, locking her office door behind her before she headed back towards the music room with a spring in her step.


	5. Chapter 5

Dick hummed thoughtfully to himself as he leaned over the piano keys. He was filling in a blank sheet of music, scribbling crooked, cursive notations across the staves with unparalleled care. He and his brother had just finished one of their most bold and audacious songs yet. They knew Mrs. Travers wouldn't like it but Walt certainly would. It was fun, lively and jovial, everything that Mrs. Travers wasn't, but they were determined to write the music that they wanted to write, whether she liked it or not. Bob played the last chord again and Dick carefully wrote it down.

"There. Finished," he murmured, filling in the last ovate note. His brother reread the page of music over his shoulder then clapped Dick on the back.

"This is gonna be a good one, I can feel it," Bob said brightly, much more like his usual self when Mrs. Travers wasn't around. They both looked up as the door swung open, afraid it might be the author herself but fortunately, it was Charlie who walked in. She smiled at Don as she went past him. He was sat in an armchair by the wall, scribbling on his script as he happily listened to the brothers play. Charlie approached the piano and grinned at them both.

"Good afternoon." She placed her forearms on the piano and rested her chin on top. She'd been in her office all morning and hadn't had a chance to say hello yet. It wasn't until she was apart from them that Charlie realised just how much she missed her friends. She hoped they felt the same way. Although, from the way Dick was smiling at her, it was quite clear the feeling was mutual.

"Good afternoon!" The Shermans replied in unison. Bob stood up to lean against the side of the piano but Dick stayed seated, happily looking up at Charlie.

"You're gonna like this one," he told her, forgetting in his excitement that she'd joined them in the middle of their conversation. Charlie looked puzzled as she glanced between the two brothers.

"This what?" Dick chuckled and did a quick scale on the piano, the beautiful sound filling the room. If asked, he would swear he did it solely because he knew Charlie liked to hear them play, but perhaps he could admit to himself that he wanted to show off a little.

"This song." Charlie shook her head slightly and changed position so that her elbows rested on top of the piano.

"I like all your songs," she told him kindly as she propped her chin up on the heel of her palm. She gave him a teasing smile that made Dick's shirt collar feel a little tight but he tried to ignore it.

"Well, you'll  _love_  this one." He promised. Charlie chuckled and raised her eyebrows.

"Is it good?"

"Very," replied Bob, who was beginning to feel a little left out, although he'd never admit it. "If I do say so myself."

"Will Mrs. Travers like it?" Bob snorted and shook his head.

"Almost certainly not." The men chuckled but Charlie couldn't help feeling a little disheartened. They worked so hard and it went completely unappreciated by the author. Bob patted the top of the piano before he walked away to talk to Don, leaving his brother alone with Charlie. Dick liked Charlie, he really did, and he thought it was obvious (perhaps a little too obvious sometimes) but being left alone with her made him nervous. What if he said something stupid? He always managed to find himself embarrassingly tongue-tied whenever they spoke. She was so clever and witty and it really didn't help that he thought she was incredibly beautiful. Charlie smiled easily down at him which helped him relax a little but then she leaned enticingly over the piano.

"Let's hear it then." It took Dick a moment to realise what she was talking about but once he remembered, he shook his head.

"No, sorry, you can't." Charlie immediately straightened up, her smile vanishing. Dick almost laughed at the offended expression on her lovely face but thought better of it.

"But you just said I'll love it," she said in bewilderment and this time, Dick did laugh.

"You have to wait until Mrs. Travers gets here, then you can hear it." He knew she would love the song but he wanted it to be a surprise, and perhaps if Mrs. Travers heard someone praise their music, she might go a little easier on them. Charlie's agape mouth closed with a snap and she pouted childishly.

"Fine." She huffed. "Then I won't show you my drawing." To her delight, her words did exactly what she'd intended and Dick looked immediately interested.

"What drawing?" He asked quickly. Charlie smirked and picked up the portfolio that rested at her feet. She patted it fondly before neatly tucking it under her arm.

"This drawing," she told him mysteriously with a quirked eyebrow. Dick's curiosity was well and truly piqued.

"What of?" He looked round the side of the piano to try and sneak a peak. Charlie tutted and slipped her portfolio behind her back.

"You." She smiled demurely. "And your brother and Don." Much to her amusement, Dick gasped and held out his hand.

"Let me see!" He cried as he stood from his seat. Charlie raised her chin.

"Let me hear your song," she countered, the corner of her red lips pulled back in a tempting smirk. Dick's gaze momentarily flicked down, his attention caught by that ridiculously enticing smile. He regained control and crossed his arms defiantly.

"No." He seemed determined but Charlie knew that she had managed to crack his resolve.

"Then you don't get to see it." Dick twisted his mouth and leaned forward over the piano but Charlie was made of sterner stuff and didn't move back like he thought she would. Now they were standing very close, closer than they'd ever been before. Dick felt heat rise in his face when he realised that if it weren't for the piano in the way, they'd look quite intimate. He let out a humph and stole another quick glance down at her lips before meeting her gaze again.

"You drive a hard bargain, Charlotte," he murmured, returning her smirk. Charlie fought the urge to smile, trying to keep up the game they were playing, determined not to crack first. But that smile. She studied his dark eyes intently before finally giving in and smiling properly at him, a big, warm smile that made his chest tighten. Across the room, Don nudged Bob's arm then nodded towards the pair by the piano. Bob rolled his eyes in response and shook his head in mock despair. The door to the rehearsal room suddenly burst open and Dolly flew in, travelling much faster than her high heels should allow.

"She's here!" She cried, before turning around and running back the way she'd come, obviously not wanting to stick around for long. Charlie chuckled at her frantic expression as she turned back to Dick. She smiled at him softly then reached up to give his shoulder an encouraging squeeze before she walked away to stand by her desk. As Dick recovered from whatever it was that had just transpired between them, Charlie called across the room to his brother.

"I wouldn't have thought you'd be allowed back in here after yesterday," she teased as Bob walked back over to the piano.

"If worst comes to worst, I'll hit her with my cane." A sharp cough made them jump. Charlie turned to see Mrs. Travers standing in the doorway, just as Dolly had said, looking incredibly unimpressed. She glanced at Don, who was shuffling his feet awkwardly, before smoothing down the front of her dress and smiling at the author.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Travers," Charlie said politely, knowing how she liked to keep things formal.

"Good afternoon." Mrs. Travers gave her a curt nod then made her way over to the table where she always sat. Dick stood up from the piano bench and nervously addressed the author.

"If it's alright with you, Mrs. Travers, we'd like to play you another song." Charlie thought he looked rather sweet with his hands folded and his eyebrows drawn together imploringly. Mrs. Travers gave a dramatic sigh and opened her little notebook, flicking through the pages in a bored manner.

"I don't know what you hope to achieve with it but go on," she told him without looking up from her book. Charlie's heart sank at the disappointed look on Dick's face but she had learned it was best to hold her tongue around the author. Don pursed his lips and sighed a little at Mrs. Travers' impatient tone.

"That's the spirit," he murmured while Dick retreated back to safer ground. He sat down at the piano again, fingers poised to play as his colleagues gathered around him, apart from Charlie, who chose a seat close to Mrs. Travers at the table. Dick cleared his throat, ready to begin, and sent Charlie one more nervous glance. Mrs. Travers watched out of the corner of her eye as Charlie sent him a warm smile and a subtle thumbs up. Dick squared his shoulders, his courage obviously bolstered by Charlie's encouragements. The three men took a deep breath, preparing to sing as Dick played the first charming notes.

"It's... Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!" They sang boisterously. Charlie let out a surprised laugh when she heard the word they had constructed. "Even though the sound of it is something quite atrocious, if you say it loud enough you'll always sound precocious! Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!" That word made Charlie laugh again. Dick was right, she already loved the song. Mrs. Travers, however, looked less than impressed, but this time she let them continue instead of interrupting straight away.

"Because I was afraid to speak when I was just a lad, my father gave me nose a tweak and told me I was bad," sang Bob, grinning at the quick and jaunty tune. Charlie had never seen him so caught up with happiness before. "But then one day I learned a word that saved my achin' nose!" Dick and Don joined in again, obviously acting out the different parts.

"The biggest word you ever heard and this is how it goes: Oh!" Charlie couldn't hold back her grin as the song continued. These boys and their wonderful music. They were incredible, the song was incredible. Dick played a little quieter and leaned forward, speaking directly to Charlie.

"You can say it backwards which is 'dociousaliexpilisticfragicalirupus', but that's going a bit too far, don't you think?" He said, giving her that wonderful, radiant smile of his.

"Indubitably," answered Bob with a roll of his eyes, making Charlie laugh again. She didn't dare look at Mrs. Travers for the rest of the performance, she knew what she would see. She was most likely livid. This kind of song was the polar opposite of what she had asked for. Charlie could only imagine the look of unadulterated irritation on the author's face. The song proved to be funny and ridiculous until the very end. They finished with an enthusiastic whirl of piano music before Dick lifted his fingers from the keys and looked expectantly at the two women who served as their audience. He was glad to see Charlie clapping excitedly, her wide smile still in place. He knew she would like it, but it was Mrs. Travers who had the final say. Judging by the look on her face, they hadn't impressed her.

"What on Earth are you talking about?" She cried, shaking her head in bewilderment. "Supercali- Supercali- Or whatever the infernal thing is!" Bob looked down at his brother, who gave a small shrug.

"It's something to say when you don't know what to say," he tried to explain but she still didn't look pleased.

"Well, I always know what to say." Mrs. Travers suddenly jerked her head towards the door and pointed a threatening finger at Dolly, who had just entered the room. "If you so much as step one foot in here with that tray, I shall scream!" Immediately, Dolly began to push her trolley back down the corridor. "One cannot live on cake alone!" Charlie watched her leave sadly. She felt sorry for Dolly but she was also quite peckish and that cake looked good. Don sighed and ran a hand through his thinning hair.

"Let's just try it again, shall we?" He suggested, trying to settle the nerves of everyone in the room, but Mrs. Travers shook her head.

"No, I can't listen to your pointless drivel anymore." Dick's jaw clenched but he didn't dare say anything. Mrs. Travers was really starting to get to him, as much as he tried to put up with it. He stole a glance at Charlie. She was looking down at the table in front of her, her hands squeezed into fists. Mrs. Travers' bluntness was getting to her too. "Let's move onto something else." She decided in a bored voice. Don shrugged, just glad to change the subject before someone started throwing things.

"Fine. What would you like to do?" He tried to be polite but it sounded a little forced. Mrs. Travers sighed and flicked through her script, her thin lips pouted indecisively. They waited patiently for her to speak but Mrs. Travers had managed to aggravate everyone in the room yet again. The brothers were disappointed that all their hard work had been dashed in a few seconds, while Charlie and Don were just angry that the author didn't have a polite bone in her body

"I'd like to go over that scene again, what did you call it? 'Jolly Holiday'?" Mrs. Travers finally decided, her mouth drawn into a thin, disapproving line. Don sighed and nodded. He went to speak to the boys, trying to come up with something they could show Mrs. Travers that she'd actually like. Charlie sat and drew some more, never looking at Mrs. Travers once. To be perfectly honest, she was furious with her. Charlie had seen first-hand how hard these men worked and all of it for Mrs. Travers, but still, Mrs. Travers wouldn't give them the slightest bit of leeway. Authors were allowed to be pernickety about how their work is adapted but there was a limit to how rude one could be.

After an eventful half hour of brief arguments, sharp words and the sound of patience beginning to wane, the music room door swung open and in stormed Disney. Charlie jumped up from her seat as if he were the King, her eyes wide with surprise.

"Pamela!" He boomed, crossing the room to stand in front of their table. Mrs. Travers wasn't half as intimidated as Charlie, she merely smiled calmly up at their boss.

"Mr. Disney," she greeted him pleasantly.

"What's this I hear about you not wanting any red in the film?" Charlie could tell he was desperately trying to reel back his anger. Disney didn't want to lose his temper, especially not in front of his employees, but Mrs. Travers' request was simply too outrageous. Charlie wrinkled her nose and turned to look at Dick, Bob and Don who were all standing wide-eyed by the piano.

"No red?" She mouthed to them and they all shrugged in return, just as lost as she was. Charlie caught Walt's eye and saw his scolding look. She ducked her head and scurried over to the piano to stand with her friends, just happy to get out of the line of fire.

"I've simply gone off the colour." Mrs. Travers shrugged, waving off his question as if it was nothing to be concerned about.

"We can't make the film without the colour red! The film is set in London, for Pete's sake!" Those gathered around the piano watched their conversation like a tennis match, their heads turning from one contender to the other.

"And?" Walt faltered, he didn't think that he would need to explain.

"Well, there's buses and mailboxes and guard's uniforms and things." He threw his hands in the air and shook his head. "Heck, the English flag!" Mrs. Travers pursed her lips, her whole body clearly expressing her indifference.

"I understand your predicament, Mr. Disney, I do. I just- I don't know what it is. I'm just suddenly very anti-red." It was obvious to everyone in the room that she was making her arguments up as she went along. "I shan't be wearing it ever again." Dick glanced down at his red waistcoat and back up at Mrs. Travers with a concerned, forlorn look. Charlie patted his shoulder comfortingly. Disney sighed, leaning forward over the table.

"Is this a test, Pamela?" Charlie thought perhaps he was attempting to be as understanding as he could. She didn't think Mrs. Travers was the sort of person to recognise someone trying to be accommodating, but bless him for trying. "Are you requiring proof of how badly I wanna make you happy so that we can create this beautiful thing together?" If it was any consolation, Mrs. Travers did look quite embarrassed to be caught out, but then she straightened her back and took hold of the reins again.

"I took you at your word, Mr. Disney, and it seems my  _first_  stipulation has been denied," she stated firmly and concisely. "There will be  _many_  more. So, perhaps we should just 'call it quits' and I should hand you back these." As she spoke, Mrs. Travers reached for her handbag and pulled out a few folded pieces of paper. Walt eyed them angrily, it seemed he wasn't sure whether or not to call her bluff. The writer, the artist, and the musicians all watched in a stunned silence, waiting for their magical boss to save the day and let them get on with their work. But Disney sighed and straightened up, all the fight leaving him.

"Alright. No red in the picture." This was the first time that Charlie had seen him without his broad smile.

"Walt!" Don cried, he couldn't believe that Disney would give in so easily. They tried to call after him but Charlie watched as her hero walked back out the door he had burst through just a few moments ago.

"He doesn't have the rights," Bob realised what the powerful papers in Mrs. Travers' grasp were. She smiled triumphantly and waved them for effect.

"Quite." Charlie turned to the author, her mouth hanging open. She didn't know whether she was upset or shocked or just plain furious. All she knew was that Mrs. Travers' smirk made her blood boil. Charlie tried to push her anger down but Mrs. Travers' biting comments had been gnawing away at her since the day she arrived and now it was spilling over. Before she even knew what she was doing, Charlie gave an outraged cry and stormed out of the door. They watched her leave, surprised by her outburst, but only Dick followed her.

"Charlie?" He tried to call her back but she didn't stop. Dick swung open the rehearsal room door and ran down the corridor after her. "Charlie!" Mrs. Travers sniffed and turned back to those who were left.

"You  _are_  a melodramatic bunch, aren't you?"

* * *

"Charlie?" Dick tried to catch a glimpse of her as he rounded each corner. He had no idea where he was going and he was fairly certain that Charlie didn't either. Fortunately, he only had to hurry down a few more hallways before he found her. She stood in the middle of the empty corridor, her face all screwed up with anger.

"She's just so- Ugh!" Charlie cried, shaking her head in disgust. "She's so awful! She's so unbearably unreasonable, it makes me so-" Charlie span around and put her hands on her hips, gritting her teeth furiously. Dick was surprised by the ferocity that fuelled her words, he had never seen her like this. Charlie was usually so calm and patient but something had tipped her over the edge. She turned back to Dick and gestured towards where she imagined Mrs. Travers might be sitting. "How dare she, the old bag!" Then she paused and shook her head as if snapping herself out of a dream. "No, she doesn't deserve that." Charlie scolded herself, the politeness that had been drilled into her trying to regain control. But again she frowned, looking conflicted. "Or does she?" She asked no one in particular. "Oh, bloody hell."

Dick watched as all the fight left her. Charlie leaned against the wall then she slid to the floor looking lost. She sighed and rested her head in her hands, rubbing her tired eyes. She'd never acted like this before. Perhaps she was just overtired, or perhaps she was too invested in her work. Either way, Charlie felt exhausted, like a deflated balloon. Dick watched her sadly, not quite knowing what to do. He understood Charlie's anger but he didn't want a cranky old lady to change her. He liked how polite and ordered she was, he didn't want to see that taken from her as she grew more and more worn down by the Mrs. Travers' sharp comments. Without a word, he stepped forward and repeated Charlie's actions, sliding down the wall until he sat beside her. They were silent for a while, just staring at the opposite wall and contemplating what had happened. Finally, Dick turned his head slightly and asked with a slight smile.

"Is that the rudest you've ever been about a person?" Charlie looked back at him for a moment before she exhaled sharply through her nose, which soon turned into proper laughter as Dick joined her. She sighed and leaned her head back against the wall, her eyebrows drawing together with concern.

"I was quite harsh, wasn't I?" Dick snorted.

"No! God, no. You could say a lot worse about her." Charlie had to agree with him there. Mrs. Travers had finally made her snap, something she ought to be congratulated for.

"She just... Why doesn't she understand how hard you work?" Charlie muttered as she sadly shook her head. "And that you're doing everything you can to accommodate her. This film, it's going to be incredible, so why does she..?" She trailed off and heaved a shrug, tilting her head to look at him. "I hate the way she talks to you." Dick couldn't look away from her bright, hazel eyes. He shook his head slightly, nudging her arm in a feeble attempt at a companionable gesture.

"Don't worry about it," he told her quietly before looking back at the opposite wall. "She seems to like you, in her own weird way." Charlie scoffed and returned his nudge. She sighed again, then leaned over so that she could rest her head on Dick's shoulder. He tensed up a little in surprise but soon relaxed and let himself enjoy the feeling of Charlie leaning against him. He found comfort in her gesture and the warmth of her body, which somehow managed to seep through his clothes to his skin. They stayed that way for a little while until Charlie began to grow uncomfortable on the cold, hard floor. She lifted her head from Dick's shoulder and looked around the corridor.

"Where are we?" She found that Dick had closed his eyes as if he was drifting off to sleep. He blinked a few times and studied the hallway with a slight frown.

"I don't know." He said slowly. Dick looked down at Charlotte and they both began to giggle at the ridiculousness of their situation.

"Oh, I can't believe I stormed out of the room. How childish." Charlie moaned once their laughter had subsided. She'd wanted to make an impression on Mrs. Travers and her colleagues, and she certainly had, just not the kind she would've liked. Dick shrugged.

"Ah, we all feel like doing it every now and then." Charlie still looked despondent so he jumped to his feet and held out his hands. "C'mon." She smiled as she took his offered hands and let him pull her to her feet. "What do you want to do?" She pulled a face as she dusted herself off and straightened out her dress.

"I don't want to go back in there." Charlie was no longer angry but she didn't feel at all brave enough to face her roomful of colleagues again that day.

"Me neither." Dick shrugged. She watched him expectantly, waiting for him to make a suggestion. When he didn't speak, Charlie twisted her mouth and raised her shoulders.

"What should we do then?" Dick pouted thoughtfully, looking around the empty corridor for inspiration. Charlie could practically see the lightbulb that lit up over his head as he sent her his trademark crooked smile.

"Wanna skip class?" He asked in a hushed voice, as if it were a secret. Charlie's eyes widened and she shook her head. She had never, in all her life, broken a rule and she wasn't about to start now.

"Richard, we  _can't_."

"Why not? We're pretty much done for the day anyway." Dick didn't seem to think that ditching their work was as big a crime as she did. Charlie put her hands on her hips and gave him her sternest look.

"We couldn't possibly leave  _her_  with Don and your brother." Not only would they be breaking the rules but their colleagues would be stranded with the Ice Lady, as so many had christened her.

"Eh, they'll be fine." Dick knew it was cheeky but he couldn't help getting excited about the idea. Charlie was in no mood to go back and neither was he, so why should they? It upset Dick to know that Mrs. Travers had caused her such grief and he wanted to make her happy. He watched Charlie bite her lip and really wished he could look away because his heart was beating a mile a minute. She twisted the top half of her body from left to right, a conflicted look on her face.

"I don't know..." From her slight smile, he knew that he nearly had her convinced. Dick chuckled and took a step closer.

"C'mon, be bad for once in your life." He held out his hand. Charlie stared at his offer, mulling over the various pros and cons of the decision she was about to make. They might get in trouble, which frightened her more than anything. But on the other hand, she was still cross and Dick was smiling at her so wonderfully... He could see she was on the verge of agreeing, so he wiggled his fingers.

"Alright." Charlie laughed and finally nodded before taking his hand. Dick cheered and immediately began to gently pull her down the hall. He had a relatively good idea of where he was going but it still took them a little time to make it out of the maze of corridors. They laughed as they ran side by side, their hands still intertwined. It had been a long time since Charlie had had that much fun, whereas Dick was just trying not to have a heart attack. The feeling of her hand in his was somewhat overwhelming.

They eventually managed to find their way back to the reception. Dolly watched with raised eyebrows as they snuck past. She tried to ask what on earth they were doing but they both put a finger to their lips and shushed her. Dolly rolled her eyes and let them leave, smiling when she heard them giggling on their way out of the door. They jogged across the lot, which was pretty much empty apart from a few folks on their way to different buildings. "Where are we going?" Charlie asked as they made it to the front gate.

"I don't know!" He cried over his shoulder. Charlie frowned.

"What are we going to do?"

"I don't know!"

"You didn't really plan this through, did you?" Dick finally stopped running now that the Studios were out of sight and turned to her.

"That's the point of a spontaneous outing, there is no plan." Usually, Charlie would start to feel very anxious right about now. She lived a very ordered life but for some reason, she was completely fine with their impulsive afternoon. Dick gestured to the city before them. "What do you want to do? Where do you want to go?" A broad question, no doubt about that, but Charlie didn't find it hard to come up with an answer.

"Somewhere... Somewhere I've never been before," she replied, beginning to smile excitedly. Dick returned it and raised a finger.

"Okay, coming right up." He turned to the road they were standing by and raised his free hand in the air. "Taxi!" Soon after, a bright yellow car rolled to a stop beside them. They clambered into the back seat and Dick gave the driver an address she didn't recognise. It was a short drive and they talked the whole way there without noticing that their fingers were still interlaced.

A little while later, they were climbing up a lush green hill only a few minutes out of the city. They were both laughing breathlessly as Charlie attempted to complete Dick's challenge.

"Come on, one more time."

"It's pointless, I can't say it."

"C'mon, it's easy," Dick encouraged her. "Supercali..." Charlie frowned in concentration and tried to repeat the ridiculous word.

"Supercalifragilstic..?" She looked to Dick for help and he nodded.

"Expiali." Charlie thought for a moment before continuing.

"Expialidocious?" She turned to him with wide eyes. "Is that right?" Dick nodded.

"Yep." Charlie raised her hands out in front of her, moving them up and down with every syllable.

"Supercalifragilsticexpialidocious," she said slowly and Dick gave a joyous cry.

"Hey, see! I said you could do it!" Charlie laughed as she swung her arms, relishing in the feeling of not having to carry anything. Fortunately, she hadn't brought any bags with her to work that day and her case of supplies was safe in her office.

"Supercalifragilsticexpialidocious!" She repeated then laughed again as they reached the top of the hill. "Fantastic! I'll never stop saying it." Dick took her elbow and gently guided her right to the edge of the hill so she could see where he'd brought her.

"Here we are." He grandly swept his arm out in front of him. Charlie's lips parted with surprise as she surveyed the horizon. He'd brought her to the top of the hill she climbed every day in a taxi.

"Wow." She could see the city so clearly, especially now it was getting dark. The street lamps were starting to flicker into life and tiny pinpricks of light brightened up the buildings of the bustling city. She could just about see people walking the streets but they looked more like ants as they went about their business under the burning orange sky. Dick glanced between the view and Charlie, eager to impress her. He was relieved to see that she liked his choice of destination. While she was distracted, Dick got busy trying to make things comfortable for them. He pulled off his jacket and carefully laid it out on the ground, then gestured for her to take a seat. Charlie smiled gratefully even though she would've been perfectly happy to sit on the grass. She settled herself comfortably on his jacket, her legs stretched out in front of her.

"So, tell me about yourself," Dick said as he sat down beside her. He leaned back on his hands whilst she stayed sitting up straight, as prim and poised as ever. Charlie looked at him with a slight smirk. She thought they already knew quite a bit about each other but obviously Dick thought there was more to learn. He shrugged. "Tell me something I don't know about ya," he suggested. "Where did you grow up?" Charlie gave a slight huff of laughter and shook her head.

"I grew up in London." Dick grinned.

"There you go. See? I didn't know that," he said happily, making Charlotte chuckle. "Tell me about your family, I bet they're unequivocally interesting."

"Why so many questions?" Her light tone let him know she was only teasing. Dick raised his palms in surrender and sat up straight so that he could meet her gaze properly.

"Fine, how about we take turns at it?" Charlie nodded.

"Fine." She leaned back on her hands, mirroring the position he held a few seconds ago. "My family aren't terribly interesting. My father was born in Fulham and my mother was actually born in Wimbledon too, so she didn't move at all." Dick smiled and turned to look out at the city. The sky was gradually darkening. In the distance, they could just about make out the moon beginning to appear.

"I'm the opposite, we were always moving around. But my parents were actually neighbours growing up."

"How sweet," Charlie murmured. "What about you? Where did you grow up?"

"Well, I was born in New York. My parents were Russian immigrants so they didn't have much money at the time." Dick paused for a moment as he thought about his parents. They were hard-working people, he'd never known folks like them. Those were hard times but they got through it somehow. He smiled as he pictured his loving family in his mind. "My father was actually a songwriter too, so me and Bob got that from him. When I was nine, we finally settled down in Beverly Hills." Charlie watched him carefully as he spoke. He was so lovely to listen to, so calming and soothing, she could listen to his voice all day and never get tired of it. She saw Dick smile slightly as he looked over the city. "Now I live here, not far from the Studios. I like it here a lot, it's much more peaceful." He chuckled softly and gestured to the city before them. "And I mean, look at that view." Charlie did indeed look out at the horizon and then up at the blazing red sky. She gave a huff of laughter and turned her body in towards her friend, leaning on one hand so that their heads were closer.

"Back home, there's this park right by my house," she told him quietly as she continued to enjoy the slowly setting sun. Dick turned his head and was surprised by how close they were. He tried to take in every single inch of her face while he had the chance, so that the exact colour of her eyes, the freckles and patterns of her skin, and the shape of her lips were burned into his memory. "On one side, by the playground, there's a little police station with a white balcony on top and if you stand there at the right time, you can see the sun setting over the city in the distance." Dick smiled as he continued to gaze at her. Charlie looked a little forlorn now as she watched the setting sun. He wondered if all people wore that same look when they thought about their homes, a strange mixture of happy and sad that didn't have a name.

"That sounds nice," Dick murmured softly. Charlie hummed in agreement and he thought perhaps she had drifted into a world of her own, but then she blinked and she was grinning again. She leaned even further towards him and playfully nudged his arm.

"What kind of music do you like?" Dick immediately snapped out of his trance and shrugged his shoulders.

"Anything. I'll listen to anything and everything." It didn't do well for a musician to dislike certain types of music. Dick thought it was important that he was open to everything. Luckily, he didn't have to explain this to Charlie because she had a similar answer.

"I'm the same." Then she smiled. "Although, I am particularly fond of Nat King Cole." Dick nodded, his grin starting to return.

"I like him too." He was pleased that they had so much in common, even if it didn't seem like it on the surface. They came from two different worlds and were very different people but underneath, they were one in the same. Scraping at the bottom of the barrel, Dick asked, "What's your favourite colour?" Charlie snickered at his childish question but answered all the same.

"Blue."

"Yellow for me." 

"It suits you." Charlie nodded, a thoughtful look on her face. He was such a bright and sunny man, it seemed fitting that he should like such a cheerful colour. Dick nodded to her left hand.

"No husband?" He joked, although underneath, he was quite pleased. 

"No wife?" She shot back. They both laughed, the sound stretching across the deserted hill. The only sign of life apart from the city below was the occasional car in the distance. Apart from that, they were completely alone up there amongst the flowers. Dick leaned back, resting his weight on his elbows and sighing as he studied the sky.

"Unmarried at thirty three, my mother would be furious," he murmured, looking for shapes in the clouds overhead. Charlie chuckled and mirrored his position, also looking up at the busy sky.

"Unmarried at thirty, my mother  _is_  furious," she muttered, making Dick laugh again. They were silent for a moment, just happy in each other's company as they watched the clouds go by. Then Charlie remembered it was her turn to ask a question and brought up something she'd been meaning to ask for a while now. "What does the 'M' in your name stand for?" Dick turned his head to her, confused. Charlie blushed and looked down at the soft material of his jacket. "I saw it written on the side of your music folder." Dick chuckled and closed his eyes wearily.

"I hoped I'd never have to reveal this to you," he said dramatically, then sighed and met her gaze again. "The 'M' stands for Morton." She didn't laugh like he thought she would. It was quite a silly name and he'd often been teased about it, but Charlotte merely smiled softly and settled so that she was lying down on his jacket, her hands resting on her stomach.

"Richard Morton Sherman," she said slowly, paying attention to each syllable as she tested out the name for the first time. Dick couldn't hold back his contented sigh as his name left her lips. Luckily for him, Charlie didn't seem to notice but he couldn't pretend that her voice wrapped around his name hadn't given him butterflies. Charlie smiled. "That's quite sweet actually." Dick snorted, he wasn't sure he totally agreed but he wouldn't argue with her. He let out a long sigh as he laid down beside her and closed his eyes for a moment. He suddenly felt quite tired lying there in the grass with the sky growing dark above them. Or maybe it wasn't fatigue, perhaps it was simply peacefulness. Dick couldn't think of the last time he'd felt this contented and it was all because of the woman who laid beside him.

"You got a ridiculous middle name you can tell me about to make me feel better?" He asked quietly, trying to keep the questions going so he didn't nod off altogether. He heard Charlie laugh.

"No, sorry. My name's already a mouthful as it is." They were silent for a little while longer and Dick thought he might have been about to drift off when Charlotte suddenly spoke again. "Thank you for this. I really appreciate it." He opened his eyes and turned his head to her. Charlie was smiling sweetly at him and his stomach somersaulted like an Olympic gymnast.

"No problem," Dick replied. "It's good to step outside your comfort zone every so often." Charlie nodded slightly and her gaze travelled down from his eyes to rest somewhere near his shirt collar.

"You're a good friend, Richard," she told him softly. He chuckled then, surprising Charlie. She looked back up at him questioningly and he laughed again.

"And yet you won't call me 'Dick'." Charlie grinned and turned her head to look up at the slowly appearing stars.

"Ah, you'll have to do something to impress me to earn that." 

"You're so difficult to win over."

"But worth it." Dick chuckled quietly and looked back up at the sky.

"I'll say." Charlotte wasn't sure whether she was supposed to hear those last few words, but either way, they made her chest flutter. They stayed up on the hill for a few more hours, just laughing and talking and watching the stars appear. But after a while, the air began to grow cold and they went their separate ways. After that evening, their friendship solidified permanently and Charlotte and Richard were as close as two people could be. It didn't matter what happened because from then on, they would always be together. And although neither of them knew it at the time, they had each given themselves to the other completely.


	6. Chapter 6

It was an ordinary, bright day in Burbank and the sun was shining diligently upon the Walt Disney Studios. The music room was baking hot, so Don and the Shermans had opened each window as wide as they could go, hoping a fresh breeze might drift through. They were sat at the long desk which acted as a workspace when Charlotte wasn't using it, just making notes and talking idly. It was too hot for anything too energetic like practising their music, so they'd decided to try and cool off by going over Don's script and deciding where the next song would fit in. Dick blew out a long upward breath, trying to cool his face. They'd all taken off their jackets and waistcoats, and if the temperature didn't drop soon, they'd all be sitting around in their vests. Dick wondered what Charlie would make of them all if she saw that. She would probably laugh at them, he decided.

It wasn't uncommon that his mind wandered to Charlie whenever he was bored or his work wasn't too consuming. Dick could easily picture her in his head; that loud laugh, those red lips, those clever eyes. He smiled to himself as he thought back to the other day, when they left work early to sit on a hill just outside of the city. He had the most wonderful time and he was sure Charlie did too. They got a bit of an earful from their friends the next day but that was mostly because they'd left them alone with Mrs. Travers without warning. Oh, but it was worth it. Dick wondered what Charlie was doing right that second. He had yet to visit her office but from her stories, it was even stuffier than the rehearsal room. He pictured her leaning over her desk, hard at work, all alone. He thought about going to find her later, then maybe they could get some ice cream or something, but they'd have to be back quick unless they wanted another telling off.

"Dick?" He shook his head slightly and looked around at Don, who was frowning at him across the table. Dick had been staring into space with a dreamy smile for the past few minutes and his friends had been trying to get his attention for most of that. "You awake?" Don glanced at Bob with a knowing grin. Dick rolled his eyes and continued to scribble notes on his script.

"Yeah, I'm awake." His brother and Don loved to tease him about Charlie, always making little jokes and nudging him whenever she so much as spoke to him. He didn't want to start them off again but it was too late. Don tsked as he looked back down at his script.

"What were you thinking about that had you so distracted?" He asked innocently. Dick didn't answer. He knew precisely where their conversation was going and he didn't want to engage in it.

"Oh, I'm sure we know  _exactly_  what he was thinking about." His brother chimed in, a sly grin on his face. Dick shot him a look, trying to stop the words he knew were about to come from Bob, but his older brother only chuckled. "Or rather  _who_." Dick sighed and dropped his gaze to his script again.

"Shut up," he said wearily. It was too hot to fight and he didn't have the energy to try.

"Just ask her out," Don said, as if it could ever be that simple. Again, Dick sighed and closed his eyes.

"Please, shut up." He really didn't want to have this conversation, especially not at work where Charlie might walk in any second. But his friends seemed to find great amusement in his pain and continued to tease him mercilessly.

"C'mon, everyone knows you like her." This finally earned them the reaction they'd been looking for. Dick's head shot up and he stared wide-eyed at them.

"Everyone? What do you mean everyone?"

"Well, you guys aren't exactly subtle." Don sent a wicked grin to Bob who chuckled in return.  _'Oh, God,_ ' Dick thought.  _'Oh, no, no, no, no.'_  He looked between them and began to anxiously tap the end of his pencil against the table.

"You don't think Walt..?" He supposed nervously. What if word of his and Charlie's invented infatuation had reached the boss? He wasn't sure about the company's policy on inter-employee relationships, but the way Don and Bob were suggesting people talked meant that their relationship had been blown way out of proportion.

"So you  _do_  like her!" Bob cried, brandishing his pen. Dick immediately realised his mistake and tried to backtrack.

"No, that's not what I-" He saw the triumphant looks on his colleagues' faces and knew that there was no point arguing with them. Dick sighed and looked down at his work, feeling his face starting to go red. "Just shut up." Don and Bob exchanged knowing glances before turning back to their work as well. They didn't want to poke too much fun but it was amusing to see Dick get all worked up over nothing. Many people they worked with  _had_  seen the spark between Dick and Charlie but they didn't gossip about it. As if things couldn't get any worse for Dick at that moment, there was a light knock at the door and in stepped Charlie, a bright smile on her face.

"Good morning!" She greeted them warmly. Dick heard his friends reply with equal gusto but he finished the sentence he was writing first before looking up at Charlie. Then he really wished he hadn't. He felt his face start to burn again when he saw her and knew he must've looked like a complete idiot staring at her like that, but he couldn't help it. Her hair was free from her usual bun and she wore a light pink dress that ended at the knee, so he was treated to the sight of her legs. Charlie looked absolutely beautiful and her smile lifted his heart in his chest. Suddenly, the room felt unbearably stuffy for an entirely different reason.

"Everyone alright?" She asked kindly, looking at them all in turn before finally settling her warm gaze on him. Dick found himself quite lost for words. When he heard his friends snort at his speechlessness, he blushed and fought to get his tongue working properly.

"Yeah, I'm good. I'm great. You look, um..." He trailed off as his eyes flicked over her again before he smiled nervously up at her. "How are you?" Dick mentally kicked himself for sounding so moronic. Charlie frowned slightly at Don and Bob who were sniggering behind their scripts before she replied.

"I'm wonderful, thank you. If a little hot." She fanned herself with one hand for emphasis. Again, Dick blushed. Oh, yes, she was certainly hot. "I was wondering if I might ask you boys a favour?" Bob decided to let his brother simmer in his own embarrassment for a little while and settled down so that he could talk to Charlie properly.

"Ask away."

"Would you mind being in a photograph?" It was then that Dick noticed the camera she carried. He recognised it as the one Dolly kept in the office for when visitors to the Studios had their photo taken with Walt. Much to Charlie's delight, her friends all nodded eagerly.

"Yeah, sure," Bob said, getting up from his seat to stand in the centre of the room, ready to move where she put him.

"What for?" Asked Don as he and Dick went to stand next to Bob. Charlotte smiled, pleased that they had all agreed so easily.

"For my mother," she explained as she readied the camera. She had only used one a few times before but it wasn't difficult to figure out. "She asked me to send her a photograph and I've told her so much about you all..." Charlie finally sorted out the timer and settled the camera on her desk. Dick beamed at her.

"That sounds nice." He immediately regretted speaking because the look Charlie gave him just about melted his heart. She looked so happy that they'd all agreed to help her, perhaps she'd worried they'd decline. How could she possibly think, after all they'd done together, that he and his brother and Don could ever say no to her?

"Where do you want us?" Charlotte quickly got to work and bustled them all over to the piano. She instructed Dick to sit down in his usual spot with his brother standing beside him. Don was ordered to stand beside Bob, then Charlie stood back to admire her work. She made sure they would all fit in the shot before she rested her finger on the shutter button.

"Ready?"

"Ready!" Came the collective reply from her friends. Charlie gave a quick countdown from three to one before pressing the button and hurrying over to the piano. They all laughed at her panicked run as they all got into position, making sure they looked presentable before finding a comfortable pose. Charlie stood on Dick's other side and chose to rest her arm around his shoulders. He looked up at her briefly and she shot him a wide grin before they both turned to look back at the camera. A few more seconds and then  _flash_ , the picture was taken. They all cheered and Charlie hurried back to her table to grab the camera.

"Thank you so much," she told them earnestly. "You've no idea how much this means to me." Bob waved her off.

"No problem," he replied and his colleagues agreed. Don raised his eyebrows and jabbed his thumb over his shoulder to the wall.

"Hey, make two copies and maybe we could hang one up in here?" Charlie nodded eagerly and promised she would do just that. Then she was gone again, bustling back off to her office to work. Dick mooched back to the table. Don and Bob seemed to still be up to the task but he just couldn't gather any enthusiasm today. His brother soon noticed his lacklustre attitude and knew it would be better to find him something to do, rather than force him to continue with something he wasn't interested in.

"Hey," Bob dug out a few sheets of paper from one of the many,  _many_  piles on the desk. "Could you ask Dolly to make copies of these?"

"Sure." Pleased to have something to do, Dick took the papers from his brother and walked out of the door. Bob shook his head in despair and looked back at Don.

"God, it's like every time she's in the room, his mind goes wandering." Don chuckled as he scanned his script for any possible edits.

"Hey, you felt the same way when you met your wife." Bob snorted and turned back to his script, not wanting Don to know he had a point.

* * *

It didn't take long for Dolly to come back with his papers, there wasn't much going on in the office that day. Dick thanked her, feeling guilty when he saw she had a splash of ink on her hand from the copier. Charlie's hands were always covered in stains and smudges just like that, although hers were in a variety of exotic colours from her artwork, not the dull, corporate black of the printing machine. She was certainly different and so full of surprises. She always caught him off guard. One of the things that had been tapping away in the back of his head was the issue she seemed to have with his name. She never called him Dick, only ever Richard, and he'd been trying to decide why for a while now. He glanced at Dolly, who was bustling around her desk again. Dick knew he should probably get out of her hair but this question had baffled him for too long.

"Hey, Dolly. Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, ask away." She nodded eagerly, her usual bright smile in place. Dolly gestured to her empty office chair and Dick thanked her, sitting down in the vacant seat.

"It's about Charlie." He frowned when Dolly looked suddenly interested.

"Ooh!" She gasped, pausing her work to look back at him. Dick tilted his head a little to the side.

"Ooh? What's ooh?" Dolly's eyes widened fractionally.

"Nothing," she said, perhaps a little too quickly. "Just... Ooh." Dick still look unconvinced but didn't have the energy after the morning he'd had to question her further.

"Okay, well, Charlie never calls me Dick. She only ever calls me Richard," he explained. "And I thought you might know why." It had been puzzling him from the moment she arrived. At first, it was just a formality, they didn't know each other well enough for nicknames, but they were firm friends now. It wasn't that it bothered him, he didn't mind at all. He was just curious as to why Charlie refused to use his nickname. Unfortunately, Dolly didn't have the answer. In fact, she looked quite cross.

"Women aren't all psychically linked, ya know." She rolled her eyes and jabbed a finger at the telephone on her desk. "That's like asking you why this guy I went out on  _three_  dates with won't return my calls." Dick really didn't want to be dragged into Dolly's personal dramas so he only nodded politely.

"Right." He understood what she meant, there was no reason for her to know what went on inside Charlie's head. Dick felt a little disheartened all the same. He thought Dolly might be able to shed at least a little light on the situation. When she saw the despondent look on his face, Dolly sighed and stopped what she was doing to talk to him properly.

"Listen, she probably calls you Richard because everyone else calls you Dick," she reasoned in a soft voice. "To you, it's a nickname, but to her, it's like your proper name. So Richard is probably just her own nickname for you. That way she has a name for you that's just hers." Dick's eyes widened as he thought it over.

"You think?" It did make sense but he hadn't expected it at all. He suddenly felt a lot better now that he knew it was an act of endearment and not apathy. "Okay, thanks, Dolly," Dick said, standing up from the chair and letting her sit down.

"Anytime, sugar," she replied, her usual sweet smile in place. Dick smiled back and was just on his way out of the door when he turned back to her.

"And listen, about that guy, you don't deserve that." Dolly was a stand-up lady, a real sweet girl, and she ought to be with someone who treated her as such. But she only smiled serenely and tapped the telephone with one long fingernail.

"Way ahead of ya," she replied with a devious smirk that frightened him a little.

* * *

Hours passed and the day had gotten a little more productive. They'd made good progress developing their new song but now they were stuck.

"It's gotta be like a slogan!" Dick tapped his chin thoughtfully as he paced the room.

"Her prescription for life." Bob agreed. Suggestions began to fly, hoping to spark some inspiration.

"An apple a day." From his chair, Don gave a noncommittal grunt. He wasn't really listening, he was too focused on his drawing, but he wanted to encourage them when he could.

"A stitch in time," Bob suggested but it still didn't sound right. Don chuckled absently behind them.

"Time and tide wait for no man." He put in, continuing to add to his drawing. They were silent for a moment and Dick found himself wishing Charlie were there. She might be able to help them come up with something, or at least, it would cheer him up a little. He was so caught up in that last thought that he almost missed his brother's quiet suggestion.

"Sugar..." Bob looked up at his brother, his eyes growing wide as the idea began to evolve and expand in his head.

"Sugar? Yeah?" Dick repeated, not sure where he was going with this. Bob began to nod, growing excited as his confidence in the idea grew.

"Yeah, Jeff had vaccination day at school yesterday." He sat up straighter in his seat to match the determination he felt. Dick pouted sympathetically.

"Ouch," he said, feeling sorry for his nephew, but Bob shook his head, his grin widening.

"No ouch."

"No ouch?"

"Sugar," he said again. "They put it in a cube."

"Medicine in sugar?" Dick chuckled a little at the clever idea but he still wasn't sure what his brother was talking about. Bob tapped the arms of his chair with impatient fingers.

"Cube's an odd word." He thought for a moment before slowly looking back up at his brother. "Spoonful..." Dick raised his eyebrows, a smile starting to appear on his face. Don nodded and gestured vaguely to the other side of the room.

"You need sugar, we got sugar," he mumbled, his attention still focused on his drawing. Dick turned around so quickly that it made Don jump. He quickly explained the idea that Bob had come up with and soon Don was smiling too. "I'll go get her." He sprung from his chair with newfound vigour. They didn't have to ask who he running off to see, the Shermans had been thinking the same thing. Don hurried as fast as he could around corners and through hallways, slowing down whenever he saw someone he knew until he reached Charlie's office door. He burst into the room, too excited to think about taking a moment to slow down. "Charlie!" She jumped in fright and almost fell out of her chair. Don clamped his teeth down on his lip, suddenly very afraid of the woman glaring at him murderously.

"Good Lord!" Charlie cried as she righted herself in her chair, a hand placed over her thudding heart. "Did you manage to wrench the door completely from its hinges?" Don gave her a weak, apologetic grin and raised his palms for peace.

"Yeah, sorry," he said quickly, far too excited to apologise sincerely. "But you gotta come hear this." He waved for her to follow him and after a moment, Charlie scoffed and left her work. When she got to the rehearsal room, the men immediately ushered her over to her desk.

"So, we were thinking about Mary's, you know, motto for life," explained Bob once Charlotte, still completely bewildered, had sat down on top of the desk. They stood before her, matching excited grins on their faces.

"Something she could tell the children to brighten their moods," added Dick, who looked about ready to skip around the room with excitement.

"We thought about it long and hard and..." Don gestured to the boys and they sprang eagerly to the piano. As Dick began to play the little melody they had devised, Bob and Don watched Charlie expectantly. Just as they predicted, her eyes widened as Dick sang, and eventually, a broad smile lit up her face. Oh, yes. They had something good with this one.

* * *

A little while later, Charlie was still at her old desk, finding it much more fun to sit with the boys as she drew. She and Don sat side by side as she sketched the children's playroom. It was much nicer and honestly much easier to draw the layout of a scene with the music that went with it playing in the background. The Shermans had got off to a flying start with the song but they'd suddenly hit another wall.

"A robin feathering his nest has very little time to rest..." Dick sang, but Bob shook his head and tapped the sheet music in front of them.

"Nope. Go back to the chorus." He rubbed his forehead where a headache was beginning to cloud. Dick flicked through their music until he reached the notes they had scribbled down in a hurry before they forgot any of it.

"Just a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down! The medicine..." He faltered and stopped playing, making Charlie glance up from her little sketchbook, the one she used for doodling minute ideas that would soon turn into proper drawings. "It's not- It's missing..." Dick was starting to get frustrated with himself. Why couldn't they get this right? But then his brother clapped a hand down on his shoulder, his expression brightening.

"Wait!" Bob cried. "She always does the unexpected. She goes up the bannisters."

"Go  _up_." Charlie watched curiously as Bob and Dick worked. Their vocation was incredibly different to her own, so as often as possible, she sat and marvelled at their talent. Today was no exception. There was also the added bonus that Dick, whenever he caught her looking, would send her this impossibly bright smile that made butterflies in her stomach begin to flutter. Dick started to play again, the new tune prepared in his mind.

"Just a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down." This time, the melody flowed much better. The musicians gave a giddy laugh and looked like they might jump about with excitement.

"That's it! That's it!" They cried ecstatically. Dick looked at Charlie, his smile wide but tinged with nervous expectancy.

"What d'you think?" Charlie glanced at Don beside her and they shared a clandestine smile before she nodded her head.

"I think you're brilliant," she told him sincerely. In his heart of hearts, Dick knew that she intended the compliment for both himself and his brother, but he could pretend that her words were meant solely for him. Don's ears pricked when he heard a hearty cough from out in the hall, a tell-tale sign that their boss was approaching.

"Man is in the forest," he warned them all, the signal that meant they should stand to attention. "I want you to play that for him." Immediately, the brothers scrambled to place their sheet music in the right order, ready to present what they had come up with, and Charlie slipped into an armchair that was out of the way, just as Mr. Disney walked through the door, Mrs. Travers at his side. "Walt?" Don called the man over and the Shermans steeled themselves, feeling quite nervous, as they always did, about exhibiting their work, especially in front of the curmudgeonly Mrs. Travers.

"It's just a chorus," Dick told Walt as he settled in his seat.

"Tell us what you think." Charlie watched from afar as the Shermans began to perform. They'd only come up with the main melody and a few of the words but Don was so sure it would be a hit that he just had to show the boss. Charlie smiled faintly as she watched her friends play.

"He knows, dum dum, will help dum dum dum duuuum!" Dick sang, filling in the blank spaces that would soon be written if Walt liked the song. Then he began to perform what they were certain of. "For... A... Spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down! The medicine go do-own, medicine go down. Just a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down! In a da-da daaa da daaa!" He finished with a bright flourish. Charlie couldn't see Walt's expression but from the growing smiles on the brothers' faces, their song had a warm reception.

"We'll work out the rest of the lyrics," Bob assured Mr. Disney quickly. Dick nodded, beginning to get excited again.

"You see how it goes up on the word 'down'?"

"On the word 'down', it goes up."

"It's ironic," added Don helpfully. Walt chuckled and shook his head.

"Forget ironic, it's  _iconic_!" He told them, much to the relief of the team. "I won't be able to stop singing that for weeks!" He grinned cheerily and began to sing the little melody back to the boys, who looked like they might burst with pride. But then a surly voice interrupted them and their smiles disappeared.

"Well, it seems enormously patronising to me." All eyes turned to Mrs. Travers. "Just the sort of annoying tune you would have playing in your themed park, I daresay. All giddy and carefree, encouraging children to face the world unarmed." Charlie stole a glance at the brothers and felt her heart sink when she saw their faces. Bob looked furious but Dick looked so hopelessly forlorn it broke her heart. "All they need is a spoon and some sugar and a brain full of fluff and they're equipped with life's tools. Wonderful!" Walt obviously felt just as perturbed as everyone else in the room. He fixed the woman with as restrained a glare as he could manage.

"What's your point, Pam?"

"Mrs. Travers!  _Please_!" She sighed and removed her glasses from the end of her nose so that she could look at them all in turn. "My point is that, unlike yourself, Mary Poppins is the very enemy of whimsy and sentiment." Dick lowered his gaze to the piano keys, finding he couldn't bring himself to put on a brave face that day. Beside him, his brother clutched his cane painfully tight. "She's truthful, she doesn't sugar-coat the darkness in the world that these children will eventually, inevitably come to know. She prepares them for it, she deals in honesty! One must clean one's room; it won't magically do it by itself!"

Mrs. Travers held Don's script aloft, waving it about carelessly. "This entire script is flim-flam! Where is its heart? Where is its reality? Where... Is the gravitas?" She finished gravely. When there was no response to her grand speech, Mrs. Travers strode over to the piano. Before anyone could say a word to stop her, the author flung the carefully crafted script out of an open window. Charlie let out a gasp and sprang out of her chair but there was nothing she could do. Mrs. Travers turned back to the room full of people and crossed her arms defiantly. "No weight, Mr. Disney," she told the slack-jawed film-maker. "See?" Walt paused for a moment, letting the tension in the room settle for a moment before he said,

"No whimsy or sentiment, says the woman who sent a flying nanny with a talking umbrella to save the children." Mrs. Travers seemed surprised by his incredulous statement.

"You think Mary Poppins has come to save the children, Mr. Disney?" When Walt didn't answer, Mrs. Travers tutted and sighed. "Oh, dear," she muttered as she walked out of the room. Dick looked from Walt to Charlie, his mouth hanging open with disbelief. She was staring out of the window where Mrs. Travers had disposed of their script with an unreadable expression. Then she caught his gaze and her lips formed a grimace. He nodded slowly, a silent message telling Charlie that he understood what she was feeling because he felt the same way.

* * *

The room stayed eerily quiet for the rest of the day, as if everyone was nervous of making too much a noise. Charlie retreated back to her office soon after the script incident but towards the end of the day, she came back to see how everyone was getting on. She expected to find all three men crowded around her desk, discussing (arguing about) Mrs. Travers' crass actions but instead, she found only Bob in the music room, his colleagues nowhere to be seen. Should she go in? Bob was scribbling something down on a script, thankfully there had been more than enough copies made. The room was deadly silent, broken only by the gentle breeze outside and the occasional putter of a car engine in the distance.

Charlie thought about creeping back down the hallway, not wanting to disturb the musician. Well, no, that was a lie. She didn't want to go in because she had never been alone with Bob before and she wasn't sure what to say to him. She wasn't awkward by nature but sometimes she managed to trip over her own words and that led to embarrassment, ergo more verbal catastrophes. But, surely she was just being silly? Bob was a lovely man and she had no reason to be nervous. With her mind made up, Charlotte crept into the room as tacitly as her heels would allow.

"Hi." Bob looked up. He seemed a little surprised, he hadn't heard the door open.

"Hey," he replied, before turning back to the work resting on his lap. Charlie carefully walked up to the table, resting her fingers on the back of an empty chair across from him. She chewed her lip awkwardly for a moment before asking,

"Can I talk to you for a moment?" Bob looked back up at her and nodded, obviously not feeling half as awkward as she did.

"Sure, take a seat." He gestured to the chair she was standing behind. Charlie thanked him politely and sat down, her back straight and her hands resting on her knees, as if she were in the company of a stranger.

"Where's Richard?" She asked eventually, just to get a conversation going. That, unfortunately, seemed to spark Bob's interest. He narrowed his eyes at her and she noticed a sly grin starting to emerge.

"What is it with you two?" Charlotte's eyes widened until they were like saucers.

"What?" Her voice came out a little squeakier than she'd have liked. "Nothing, I was just wondering." Bob clearly didn't believe her, though Charlie didn't completely understand what was happening between her and Dick either, so that didn't make it a complete lie.

"He went with Don to try and talk some sense into Walt." He scoffed and shook his head. "Dunno how successful they'll be though." Bob glanced to where Mrs. Travers usually sat. Charlie followed his gaze and stared at the empty chair for a moment, mulling over his words.

"She really gets to you, doesn't she?" Bob chuckled.

"Ho ho, yeah," he agreed and they both laughed. Charlie was glad they were talking naturally, even if it was about such a negative topic. "You seem to get along with her alright," Bob pointed out as he scribbled something down on his paper. Charlie hummed thoughtfully.

"She's difficult but that doesn't mean we shouldn't be polite." Bob met her gaze and shook his head in bewilderment.

"How d'you do it? You've got the patience of a saint." Charlie exhaled sharply through her nose and looked down at her lap.

"Saintliness has nothing to do with it." She crossed her arms as she began to relax her posture. "I  _did_  storm out of the room the other day." Bob gave a loud laugh and let his writing hand rest on the table for a moment.

"Then what is it?" Charlie began to smile when he leaned towards her conspiratorially and raised his eyebrows. "Sorcery?" He whispered. Charlie let out a loud laugh, instantly dispelling all tension from the room. Bob began to laugh too and picked up his pen again. "Seriously, you gotta tell me your secret." Charlotte let her laughter gradually subside whilst she kicked another chair closer so that she could rest her feet on it.

"I just... I just think it's important to try and understand why she acts the way that she does." Bob looked up with an incredulous frown and she laughed a little before continuing. "Well, Mrs. Travers' books are a part of her, just as much as your music is a part of you," Charlie said, finding it quite difficult to explain, but Bob seemed ready and willing to listen. "And it must be incredibly difficult to travel thousands of miles, alone, to a place she's never been before and see all this. And then meet a team of people who might drastically change something she cares about. And so, she lets us know that we're pushing it too far by insulting us." Bob seemed to understand her point of view but he gave her a wry smile.

"You were doing so well up until that last part," he joked and Charlie chuckled. They were silent for a moment. The music room seemed terribly empty without every member of its eclectic team, and terribly quiet without their music.

"She's all by herself, Bob," Charlie murmured eventually, once she'd gathered her thoughts. "I'd like her to be happy." Bob sighed and nodded his head.

"You're right," he said reluctantly. Then he shot her a pointed look. "But she's still an old bat." Charlie nodded, her brow furrowed.

"Oh, yes, definitely." Again, they laughed, and Charlie couldn't remember why she'd been so nervous. "But, we must be kind," she added, determined to keep the promise she'd made to herself about being nice to Mrs. Travers, no matter how awful she was. "Kindness won't hurt us but it'll help her." Bob looked at Charlie for the longest time, his expression clouded with an emotion she couldn't quite read. Then the corners of his mouth lifted ever so slightly.

"I can see why my brother likes you so much." He was being honest, there was no teasing tone to his voice. Charlotte was a lovely woman, very kind and thoughtful, and his brother had been instantly drawn to her. He understood why Dick always acted so dazed around her, it was the same feeling he got when he spoke to his wife, even after years of marriage. Charlie looked quite moved by his words but only for a moment. As if to cover up the emotion she had let slip, she gave him a stern look.

"And on that note, I have to get back to work," she said briskly as she stood up from her chair. Bob groaned as she began to walk away.

"Oh, c'mon, don't be like that!" He too had realised that this was the first moment they'd ever had alone and he'd been enjoying getting to know her a little more. But apparently, Charlie was a lot better at coping with teasing than his brother was. When she didn't even look back at him he said, "You know it's true!" Bob heard her give a scornful laugh just as she reached the door. "Just kiss him already!" Oh, he'd done it now. Charlotte stuck her head back around the door and stared at him in surprise.

"Haven't you got anything better to do than antagonise me?" She cried, although he could see that she was fighting a grin. He also noticed the red blush starting to colour her cheeks and suspected that she'd quickly pictured the idea in her head. Bob leaned back in his chair and shrugged.

"This is way more fun!" Charlie huffed and turned on her heel, leaving Bob alone in a fit of laughter.

* * *

It was late by the time they left that evening. Dick was just on his way out of the building when he was reminded of something. Both Don and his brother had gone home already but he hadn't seen Charlie leave. His hand was on the door when he realised she hadn't come in to see them. She wouldn't leave without saying goodbye. There was only one possible explanation, so Dick let go of the door and walked back the way he came. His theory proved to be correct. He leaned, cross-armed against the door frame of Charlie's office, smiling fondly. She had fallen asleep in the middle of a drawing, her head resting on her arm.

Dick chuckled to himself as he walked further into the room, dropping his bag and his jacket on the way. He looked over her shoulder, trying to spy what she'd been drawing and was glad that he did. In charcoal pencil, Charlie had painstakingly drawn Mary sitting on a cloud, checking her reflection in a little hand mirror, her famed umbrella beside her. He'd never forget that moment for as long as he lived, the sight of her, leaning over her art in the middle of the night. She looked beautiful and so did her drawing. With no small amount of regret, Dick reached forward and gently shook her shoulder.

"Charlie?" He whispered, trying to stir her awake as carefully as he could. "Charlie?" She let out a soft moan and slowly lifted her head from the desk, squinting at Dick with bleary eyes.

"What?" She croaked, blinking drowsily once or twice. Dick smiled a little at her sleepy expression before she groaned and let her head drop into her hands. "Oh, no," she moaned. "I fell asleep, didn't I?"

"Yeah," Dick replied softly, not wanting to startle her by suddenly being too loud. Charlie shook her head, her hands still covering her face.

"Like a toddler at a wedding, ugh." Dick carefully helped her to her feet and tutted when he saw she'd been leaning against her drawing in her sleep.

"You've got charcoal on your face," he told her with a quiet laugh, raising a hand to her cheek and gently wiping the smudge away with his thumb. Charlotte was too tired to be embarrassed but when Dick's fingers attentively touched her face, she felt butterflies in her stomach once again.

"What time is it?" She asked as she began to gather her things. She didn't look at him again for a few seconds, just trying to calm herself down after his caring gesture.

"It's gone twelve." Charlie groaned again.

"Oh, God." She shook her head. "Alright, I need to go home." She could barely pull on her jacket, she was so tired. Dick took pity on her and helped her guide her arms through the sleeves, then took the collar and pulled it into place at the front.

"We both do." Charlie found that his sweet smile gently coaxed her from her drowsy state. Dick looped his arm through hers and led her to the door, picking up his jacket and bag on the way past. "Come on, we can share a cab," he offered and Charlie was more than happy to agree. She let him guide her through the corridors and out into the parking lot where he flagged down a taxi. Dick made sure she was safely inside before climbing in next to her. Charlie gave the driver the address of her hotel then relaxed back into the comfortable leather seat. She hugged her bag to her chest and smiled dreamily at the musician as the car puttered through the almost empty streets.

"Thank you for waking me up, I might've been there all night otherwise." In the half-light of the car, provided solely by the street lamps that whizzed by, she could just about see Dick's sweet, crooked smile as his fingers toyed with a loose thread on his sleeve.

"It's lucky I remembered when I did, I was just on my way out of the door. I just thought it was weird that you hadn't come in to say goodbye." He glanced up at her then and found Charlie was giving him a surprisingly sincere look, as if she had taken his comment completely to heart.

"Oh, I'd never leave without saying goodbye," she promised, and there was a layer of determination to her voice that told him she was telling the truth. The journey was thankfully quite short and soon enough, the taxi pulled up outside her hotel. Dick quickly got out of the car and opened Charlie's door for her, much to her amusement. He asked the driver to keep the meter running before skipping up the steps to meet Charlie at the entrance. "Thank you for the taxi," she said. Dick smiled, ready to say goodnight, but then she asked, "What do you think she meant?" He frowned, not quite sure what she was referring to. "Mrs. Travers," Charlie reiterated. "What do you think she meant when she said that Mary Poppins isn't there to save the children?" The author's words had been bothering her all day and she couldn't get her head around them. Unfortunately, Dick seemed just as clueless.

"Who knows?" He wanted to give her a proper answer but Charlie would see through any vain attempt to guess Mrs. Travers' meaning. Still, he felt guilty when he saw the disappointed look on her face. That's when Dick decided to do something very brave. He stepped forward, and while her gaze was lowered, he kissed her quickly on the cheek. Charlie looked up in surprise and Dick panicked for a moment, afraid he had been too forward, but then she began to smile. Trying to hide how relieved he was, Dick smiled back and nodded slightly. "Goodnight, Charlie," he said, before turning to walk down the steps. Charlie watched him go, her chest feeling like it might burst with happiness.

"Goodnight." Dick gave her one last smile before raising his hand in farewell and hopping back into the taxi. Charlie stood by the entrance to her hotel and watched him be driven away before she walked inside. She faintly touched her cheek. Charlotte couldn't quite believe Dick's courage. She felt hot all over and she knew she must have been red as a tomato, but she was too elated to care. Charlotte smiled at the concierge on her way past the reception desk and jumped into the lift just as the doors were closing.

She travelled up with a couple who'd obviously just come in from a night on the town. They spoke softly and occasionally giggled which usually would've annoyed her, but tonight Charlotte felt strangely optimistic. The air felt a little warmer, the stars a little brighter, and she walked lightly yet with a new purpose. Maybe it was the Californian air, or maybe it was just that she was happy, happier than she'd been in a long time. The less rational side of her brain would claim it was because of the lovely piano player who had just kissed her but Charlotte was determined not to blush again that evening.

She sighed contentedly as she got off the elevator on the fifth floor and walked down the short corridor to her room. The hotel was nice enough, she couldn't afford anything too grand, but it was comfortable. Her room was quite large and the furnishings were all well-kept. Perhaps her favourite thing about it was the long, wide window that she had. She could look out and see the city circled around her, bright lights and fast cars and a sense of endless possibility. Charlotte kicked off her heels, letting the squashy red carpet massage her tired feet as she walked to the bed, dropping her various belongings on the floor as she went. She slumped down on the bed and closed her eyes for a moment.

It was usually around this time that Charlotte felt quite lonely. She was a long way from home and it was strange to live on her own. She'd never been alone once in her entire life but tonight, oh, tonight she felt wonderful. And she knew exactly why. Charlotte groaned and fell back onto the bed, letting the mattress bounce under the force of her movement. She covered her face with her hands and forced herself to think of something else but it was no use. She let her arms flop down beside her and stared up at the cream ceiling, studying the swirling patterns as she chewed her lip. She was going home in a few weeks. After they finished the film, she'd be packing her bags and flying back home to England... And she'd never see her friends again.

Charlie heaved another groan and rolled over onto her stomach, burying her face into her crossed arms. She missed her home so much but she didn't want to leave California. Her job was perfect, the city was beautiful and her friends, Don, Bob, Dick... Her heart plummeted in her chest at the thought of leaving them. The looks on their faces would break her heart. The look on his face... "No. Stop it," Charlotte scolded herself out loud. "You're friends. You're friends and nothing more." She sat up on the bed and began to get undressed as she continued to mutter to herself. "You're going home soon and he's..." She tugged down her dress and searched for her night clothes. "He's... He's..." Charlie glanced out the window and paused when she saw something she'd never noticed before.

From her window, she could see the hill, see the spot where she and Dick had sat after they left work early. It was quite hard to see at such distance and with the limited light, but she could just about make out the flowers that marked the place where they sat. She remembered how happy she felt in that moment, just her and the musician and the stars. She thought of how they talked and talked so easily, like they'd known each other their whole lives. She'd never had so much fun than in those few hours spent with him. "He's wonderful." Charlie murmured to herself. She caught her reflection in the glass and blanched. She looked so sad.

Charlotte huffed and shook her head, snapping herself out of her own melancholy thoughts. She tried to distract herself by continuing to get ready for bed, then quickly switched off the light and slipped under the covers.  _Whatever happens, happens,_  she thought. It isn't good to dwell on sad things that haven't even happened yet. Charlotte slowly drifted off to sleep but her mind was plagued with thoughts of leaving the wonderful world she'd stepped into. At first, she couldn't shake the horrid feeling. She did eventually manage to drift off but only after she turned her thoughts to the wonderful man with the dark, brown eyes and a crooked smile.


	7. Chapter 7

"Dolly?"

"Uh huh?" Dolly looked up to find Charlie standing in front of her desk. She smiled down at her kindly, it was the first time they'd spoken in a while. Charlie was always so busy, it was a wonder she had any time for her colleagues, let alone Walt's friendly secretary.

"Could I possibly use one of your envelopes? I need to send a letter home." Charlie held the folded paper up for Dolly to see. Attached to her letter was the picture she took of herself, Don, Bob, and Dick. She had, as promised, asked for two copies, and one hung proudly in the music room by the piano, whilst the other was ready to be sent home to her mother. Dolly nodded and immediately pulled open her desk drawer.

"Sure!" After a few seconds of fruitless rummaging, Dolly let out a triumphant cry and passed an envelope to Charlie. "Here ya go." She beamed gratefully back at Dolly before she slid the letter and the photograph into the envelope.

"Thank you," Charlie murmured distractedly as she began to look for a pen so she could scribble her mother's address on the front. Dolly watched her for a moment before passing her a pen she had handy. Charlie tutted at her own obliviousness and thanked her again before she began to write on the envelope. As she bent over the desk, she spotted Dick walking past out of the corner of her eye. He looked a little lost, as if he was looking for something. She frowned and raised her hand to catch his attention. "Richard!" When he finally noticed her, his whole face lit up and he bounded over.

"Hey!" Charlie laughed a little at his enthusiasm as she straightened up.

"Hi! How are you?" Dick shrugged, his warm smile still in place.

"Doing great. You?" Charlie shrugged back, making him smile again.

"A little tired, but happy enough." She'd only just come into work despite it almost being midday. When Charlie woke up that morning, she felt a little under the weather, so she called in and apologised, then went back to sleep for a few more hours. She felt much better now but still felt a little out of it, like her head was full of cotton wool, a clear sign that she was coming down with something. She noticed the sheet music in his hands and raised her eyebrows quizzically as she dug about in her jacket pockets. "What've you got there?" Dick's fingers tightened around the sheet music and he tilted his hands from side to side, like he was making the papers do a little dance. Charlie couldn't believe that such an esteemed and accomplished man could be so sweet. The affection he'd shown her the other night outside her hotel was still crystal clear in her head, so much so that Charlie could still feel his lips on her cheek up to the point where her face began to burn.

"New music," Dick explained quickly, as if he wanted to move on to a different subject. "We just finished it and thought you'd like to hear it." Oh, so he'd been looking for  _her_. The idea that Dick thought of her first after finishing a song made Charlie feel like she might burst with joy.

"What's it about?" She finally found what she'd been looking for in the depths of her pocket. She brought out a singular stamp and tore off the paper so she could quickly stick it to the envelope. Dick's eyes followed her movements, positively transfixed.

"You'll see," he murmured as he watched her lick the stamp and thumb it to the envelope. He should  _not_  be staring at her mouth, no matter how tempting it might be. It certainly wasn't something that friends did.

"You're so secretive about your music, Mr. Sherman," Charlie teased in a low voice. Dick finally managed to tear his gaze away from her mouth and gave her that boyish, lopsided grin that she always found so charming.

"I'm an enigmatic man, Miss. Johnson-Liddle," he replied in a low, conspiratorial tone to match hers. Poor Dolly, who was sat between them watching their conversation like a tennis match, could barely hold back a snort as she looked down at her work.

"Oh, boy," she muttered under her breath. Don was right, definitely something going on there. But Dolly hadn't been as quiet as she thought. Both Charlotte and Dick looked down at her quizzically, just as obtuse about their situation as Don and Bob said they were. She gave them a wide, cover-up smile then ducked her head and pretended to scribble something down on her notepad. Charlie bit her lip and tried not to look as embarrassed as she felt as she turned back to Dick.

"It ought to be good with all this mystery surrounding it," she continued, trying to keep the conversation going so that they could ignore Dolly's commentary. Dick looked just as hot under the collar as she felt and was glad that they'd silently chosen to ignore Dolly.

"It'll be the best piece of music you've ever heard," he promised eagerly. Charlie pulled a face and moved away from the desk, heading towards the rehearsal room, Dick immediately following in her footsteps.

"Gosh, look at you trying to be all impressive," she shot back, her red lips tugged into that irresistible smirk. Dick chuckled as they walked, their footsteps echoing down the empty corridor.

"Is it working?" He asked cheekily. To his delight, Charlie shrugged and said,

"A little." Dick was so surprised by the answer that he had no time to come up with a witty response. From the look on her face, he knew Charlie was only teasing him but he was still momentarily stunned. Dick swung his arms awkwardly and kept his eyes on the floor.

"Well, there's always a reason to impress a pretty girl." He wasn't sure whether it was a courageous or stupid thing to say. He got his answer very quickly. Charlie stopped in the middle of the corridor and stared at him in surprise.

"You think I'm pretty?" She said, clearly taken aback. When Dick gave her an awkward, shy smile, she lifted her chin. "What else?" Now it was Dick's turn to be caught off guard. He gawked at her, not entirely sure that he knew what was happening.

"Sorry?" He said dumbly, much to his own disappointment. One of the most poignant moments in their relationship and all he could get out was 'sorry'? Charlie gave him an unabashed smile that frankly made him feel ten times more nervous.

"What else?" She crossed her arms, resting her weight on one hip. Good God, she was distracting. Even the way she stood was sexy. "You haven't mentioned how stunningly clever I am or my simply sparkling personality. You also haven't mentioned my great sense of humour or my incredible artistic talent." Dick laughed but he still felt quite embarrassed. Charlie took a step forward so that she was standing close to him, significantly close. "Don't worry, I'm only kidding." He looked so panicked, she couldn't help laughing. "Thank you, though. That's very sweet." Charlie gave him a soft smile that helped to settle his nervous heart. "Come on, then." She walked past him into the rehearsal room. He watched her go with a dumbfounded expression but soon his open mouth twitched into a grin and he followed after her. He immediately walked to Don's side. The writer glanced up briefly then looked back down at his work.

"You okay?" He was only really half paying attention but he could still see he looked troubled. Dick had his gaze fixed on Charlie as she laughed with his brother across the room.

"I'm in trouble, Don," he murmured, his words supported by the little leap his heart made when Charlie caught his gaze and winked at him before turning back to Bob. Don raised an eyebrow, looking between Dick's smitten expression and the woman across the room. He snorted and returned his attention to his work.

"You bet your ass you are." Dick couldn't help but think that was a little unhelpful but he didn't have time to protest because Charlie suddenly called to him from the piano.

" _Now_  can you tell me about your new song?" Bob frowned at his brother.

"You didn't tell her?" Dick shrugged as he walked up to the piano.

"She's fun to tease," he said simply, giving Charlie a playful smile. She rolled her eyes in return and moved away so that Dick could sit down on the piano bench.

"We've called it 'Jolly Holiday' to go with the artwork you did," Bob explained as Charlie found a new seat in a comfortable armchair. Don looked up from his papers again to smile at her.

"Beautiful by the way," he added, making Charlie blush.

"Thank you." She still wasn't entirely used to the praise they always offered. She smiled at the brothers. "Will you play it for me?" Dick made a show of pretending to think about it, his fingers playing with the piano keys so that a bright tinkle of music filled the room.

"Oh, I don't know," he said slowly, glancing at his brother who rolled his eyes, not wanting to get involved in their game. Charlie scoffed but she desperately wanted to hear the song and Dick knew it, so she sighed and raised her eyebrows.

"Please?" She asked politely, whilst simultaneously giving Dick a dangerous look that he took very seriously.

"Fine." His fingers slid down the piano keys beautifully before the sound translated into the opening bars of the song. Bob grabbed a copy of the music and held it above his head.

"Don, you wanna be Mary?" Don sent him a dubious look but chuckled and took the script from him.

"Nothing would bring me greater joy," he replied, studying the music to find his place. Charlie laughed at the interaction but quickly settled down when Bob began to sing.

"Ain't it a glorious day? Right as a mornin' in May. I feel like I could fly!" Her gaze moved to Don when he began to speak.

"Now, Bert, none of your larking about," he scolded gently, in what she hoped, although it sounded very similar, wasn't a caricature of her own voice. Bob began to sing again as Dick continued to play, his keen eyes darting back and forth across the pages before him.

"Have you ever seen the grass so green? Or a bluer sky? Oh, it's a jolly holiday with Mary. Mary makes your heart so light!"

"You haven't changed a bit, have you?" It was nice to hear Bob sing, usually he let his brother take over. He had a nice voice and he seemed to get into the part just as much as Dick and Don.

"It's a jolly holiday with Mary!" Bob grinned as the piece that he and his brother had constructed finally came together perfectly. "No wonder that it's Mary that we love!" Charlie settled back into her chair, letting the music and voices wash over her. She felt so happy, it almost helped her forget about her impending departure. Almost. Her smile dropped a little as she thought about what had plagued her conscience over the last few days. She would be leaving soon, she would be leaving this wonderful, warm world that she had quickly grown to love. Suddenly, she felt quite sick. Charlie tried to pay attention, straining to smile at Don and Bob's playful conversation but she couldn't help feeling overwhelmed with anxiety.

"Oh, it's a jolly holiday with you, Bert. Gentlemen like you are few."

"A vanishing breed, that's me."

Perhaps she really was putting too much thought into it. It was only a job, only a city, and she had a life back home that she couldn't just abandon. But Charlie knew deep down that it wasn't just a job. She looked up when she realised she'd been staring blankly at the wall for the past few minutes and forced a smile. She would never work with such wonderful and caring people ever again. She'd never feel as at home with any other company. Grief had almost completely consumed her when suddenly, Charlie could hear someone calling her name.

"Oh, it's a jolly holiday with Charlie! Charlie makes your heart so light!" She looked up at Dick, who was pounding away at the piano keys enthusiastically. Both his brother and Don were chuckling at the expression on her face.

"Oh, my gosh." Charlie shook her head with embarrassment when she realised what Dick was doing.

"When the day is grey and ordinary, Charlie makes the sun shine bright." The anxiety slipped off her shoulders and out of her mind just as quickly as it had set in. Charlie didn't even notice that she could breathe again properly or that her smile was no longer forced.

"Stop!" She laughed, halfheartedly protesting but still Dick played, grinning madly from behind the piano.

"Oh, happiness is bloomin' all around her. The daffodils are smilin' at the dove. When Charlie holds your hand, you feel so grand. Your heart starts beatin' like a big brass band." He'd seen the look on her face and knew that she was drifting to somewhere bad inside her head. But there was nothing in the world that could stop Dick trying to make Charlie feel better. He couldn't be certain what had made her look so sad but he knew that he wouldn't stand for it. So he had taken over the singing for a bit, just to see if he could make her smile again. "It's a jolly holiday with Charlie, no wonder that it's Charlie that we love!" He finished grandly then nodded at Bob so that he could continue. The eldest Sherman spread his arms wide like a magician about to perform a wondrous trick and grinned inanely at Charlie, who had certainly perked up, although she looked a little red.

"It's true that Mavis and Sybil 'ave ways that are winning, and Prudence and Gwendolyn set your 'eart spinning. Phoebe's delightful, Maude is disarming, Janice, Felicia, Lydia- charming." He spoke as if it were no mean feat. Charlie let out an amazed laugh, yet again shocked at the fantastic verbal acrobatics the brothers managed to come up with. "Cynthia's dashing, Vivian's sweet, Stephanie's smashing, Priscilla a treat. Veronica, Millicent, Agnes, and Jane, convivial company, time and again. Dorcas and Phyllis and Glynis are sorts, I'll agree are three jolly good sports. But cream of the crop, tip of the top, it's Mary Poppins, and there we stop!" Dick struck the keys one last time before throwing his hands up in the air, so pleased that their song had such a fantastic reception that he couldn't help being a little overzealous. Charlie beamed at her friends, feeling a bubble of pride in her chest.

"Wow! You've done it again," she gushed, her melancholy mood completely forgotten or at least, stored away for later. The brothers exchanged pleased looks, they weren't afraid to admit that they loved the praise Charlie gave them.

"How d'you think Mrs. Travers will take it?" Bob asked, a smirk sliding into place. Charlie snorted, not even bothering to think up a response to a question they all knew the answer to, but then Don said,

"About as well as she'll take the penguins." The brothers both chuckled in response but his words made Charlie frown.

"Penguins?" She repeated, her eyes darting from one man to the next, her lips parted with confusion. Don stared back at her, his own eyebrows drawn together to match her puzzled expression.

"Yeah, the penguins that're in this sequence," he went on, confused as to why she didn't know about the scene, especially since she'd worked with the animators responsible for it. "You've read the script." Charlie could feel her heart sinking for an entirely different reason.

"I thought Mrs. Travers didn't want any animation in the film." She raised her eyebrows at the writer. "Unless, of course, you've managed to find a way to teach real penguins to tap dance?" Charlie had meant it as a joke, trying to lighten the mood again, but the men all smiled awkwardly and Don looked down at his lap.

"Uh, no, we haven't done that," he said, giving a nervous laugh that Charlie didn't like one bit.

"Walt thought it would be best if we kept the animation in," Dick explained. Charlie turned to him and wrinkled her nose.

"But Mrs. Travers-"

"Will come around." Interrupted Don, who didn't want to be rude, but if he was being honest, he'd had just about enough of the tiresome author and her unnecessary demands. It would be good to put her in her place just once, and really, this was a Disney movie, what would it be without some animation? "Once she sees what they've done, she'll have to agree to it." He smiled at her brightly but for once, Charlie did not return it. She looked hurt, as if they had done her some sort of injustice. Don couldn't believe that she would defend the woman who had made their lives hell for the past few weeks, so why did Charlie look so uncomfortable? Dick looked between Don and Charlie worriedly. What had they said that had made her look so utterly downtrodden? Charlie clamped her lips together and lowered her gaze for a second before she cleared her throat and slowly got out of her chair.

"Right. Erm, excuse me." She spoke in a low tone they had never heard her use before. "I think I'll go back to my office now. I've got some work to..." They stayed silent, not entirely sure what they'd done wrong but not wanting to make it worse by pressing her. They watched sadly as Charlie left the room without a backward glance. After a moment, Don turned around in his chair.

"Hey, Dick, maybe you should go talk to her." For a second, he thought about agreeing. Something had clearly upset Charlie, but what? And why had she looked so distressed before he had, if only for a moment, managed to cheer her up? There was so much Dick wanted to ask her and he nearly repeated his past actions by chasing after her, but something stopped him at the last second.

"No, I think it'd be better to let her be by herself for a while," he decided quietly, not wanting to disturb the stillness in the room caused by Charlie's departure. Don shrugged and went back to his work.

"Well, okay, you're her boyfriend. You know her better than we do." Bob let out a loud snort and they both began to laugh as Dick glared at the pair of them.

"You  _have_  to stop that," he chided them bitterly, although he knew he must look a picture with his burning red face.

"C'mon, you  _are_  completely head over heels in lo-" Before Don could finish his sentence, Dick moved away from the piano and began to make himself busy with a spare script.

"What's next on the To Do list, then?" He interrupted him quickly, putting a firm end to their teasing. Don and Bob exchanged knowing glances but didn't press the matter further. Although Bob did roll his eyes and mutter,

"Very smooth."

* * *

Much later, when the sun had almost set and the building was nearly empty, Dick was still in the music room. He was alone, his colleagues had left earlier for different reasons. The room was unbearably quiet, the sliding of paper on paper the only sound breaking the silence. He was attempting to order their music chronologically before things got too out of hand and they lost something. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something that shouldn't be there. Charlie's portfolio of drawings was sat at the opposite end of the table to him, sleek and black and arcane. He hadn't seen inside since Charlie showed them her drawings on her second day, almost two weeks ago now. She must have forgotten it, he hadn't seen her since that morning when she... Left.

Dick felt guilty just looking at it. He tried to distract himself from his own curiosity and focus back on his task, but the folder called to him. With a groan, he went around the table and picked up the large portfolio. Glancing fretfully at the door in case he was discovered, he opened the folder and took a peek inside. There were hundreds of drawings, perhaps a dozen from each scene of the film. Every character was there in colour or in pencil, their clothes, their features, their props. He smiled to himself as he turned page after page, taking in all the beautiful artwork that he really shouldn't be looking at without asking. He reached the middle of the book and his eyes were drawn to one sketch in particular. It was of him, his brother and Don. He realised that this was the illustration Charlotte had teased him with a few days ago. It was a gorgeous drawing; he smiled as his eyes ran over the page.

"Hi." Dick jumped in fright and span around to find Charlie in the doorway. Much to his embarrassment, he saw she was smirking at his little startled hop. With a nervous laugh, he put down her folder and stepped away from the desk. Caught red-handed.

"Hi, Charlie," he stammered, marvelling at his ability to embarrass himself even more. She smiled to let him know she didn't mind his snooping as she slowly walked into the room. Charlie glanced around, her brow furrowed.

"Where is everyone?" Dick wondered why she was speaking so softly. It was quiet in the rehearsal room at the moment but it was meant for unbounded, joyous music, so really there was no need to murmur.

"Uh, Don had to rush off to a dinner reservation. It's his and his wife's thirtieth anniversary, so..."

"And your brother?"

"Two out of three of his kids are down with chickenpox so he went home early to help take care of them." Charlie cracked a smile then and he felt all the tension leave the room immediately.

"Three children?" She repeated, her tone somewhere between disbelief and admiration. Dick nodded, his own smile growing.

"Laurie, Jeffrey and Andrea." He listed off his nieces' and nephew's names proudly. Their eldest, Laurie, was six years old and little baby Andrea had just turned one. Jeff, the middle child, was the inspiration for their song 'A Spoonful of Sugar'. Charlie laughed softly and rested her hands on the back of an empty chair.

"I bet you're a terrific uncle," she said, her eyes as warm and enchanting as ever. Dick allowed himself a smirk and waggled his head from side to side.

"I am actually." Charlie let out a loud laugh that both surprised and pleased him. Dick hoped never to see her look so defeated ever again. He was over the moon that she seemed back to her regular chirpy self, although the reason for her earlier despondency was still a mystery to him. Charlie sighed contentedly and gave him that charming look that always sent him into a stupor.

"So, it's just you and me?" She teased, her lips parting into a wide grin. Dick chuckled and went back to the task at hand, trying to put their music into some kind of order.

"Just you and me," he confirmed, only just managing not to blush at the words. Charlie nodded and gestured to the desk.

"Mind if I work in here?" She still saw this room as 'theirs' and not 'ours'. Dick nodded enthusiastically.

"Yeah! No, sure, please!" His excitement mixed up his sentence and turned his tongue to rubber. Charlie smiled sweetly then held up one finger.

"Alright, I'll just be a moment." Then she disappeared back out of the room. Dick let out a long breath, trying to calm himself down. He and Charlie had been alone before but somehow this felt different. He knew that trying to make the place look tidier was a fool's game but in the little time he had left, he ran a hand through his hair and straightened out his clothes, trying desperately not to look as worn-out as he felt. He was just pulling his tie into place when Charlie walked back in. She smiled at him and sat at her desk, humming a soft tune under her breath. Well, she obviously didn't feel half as nervous as he did. Dick went back to tidying their sheet music, trying to relax his nerves. Then a thought struck him. He turned and reached over to the turntable they had in the corner of the room. A record was already in place from where they'd been listening to it earlier. "Mind if I..?"

"No, please, go ahead," Charlie said happily, then went back to her drawing. Dick carefully lowered the needle onto the vinyl disk and turned up the volume. There was a familiar crackling sound for a couple of seconds before the old record began to play. The low, crooning notes of 'Moonlight Serenade' swept around the room, the clarinets and saxophones soothing him in no time. He was about to finish clearing up when he noticed Charlie's expression from across the room. Her hand covered her mouth, trying to hide her smile but without much luck. Dick slowly began to smile too.

"What? What's the laughing for?" Charlie shook her head, trying to look interested in her work.

"It's nothing," she said quickly, her mouth forming all sorts of strange shapes as she tried valiantly to suppress a grin. Dick narrowed his eyes at her.

"C'mon, tell me." Charlie finally let out a small laugh and shook her head.

"It's nothing, honestly. It's just..." She glanced at the record player dubiously. "Glenn Miller? Really?"

"Hey, what's wrong with Glenn Miller?"

"Nothing! It's just, what with you being a musician, I thought you'd have a more... Up-to-date taste in music." She laughed, choosing her words carefully.

"It's a classic," he said simply. "It just sounds good." He shot her a cheeky grin. "And it's great to dance to." Charlotte gave a huff of laughter and looked back at her paper.

"I wouldn't know." She said quietly. Dick's head shot up, his eyes wide.

"You've never danced?" His tone was halfway between shock and confusion. Charlie laughed at his horrified expression and shrugged her shoulders. "Don't they have dancing in England?" She laughed again and clicked her tongue.

"Of course they have dancing in England." She said, giving him a look. "I've just never been very good at it." Dick didn't believe that at all. There couldn't possibly be anything this marvellous woman couldn't do. With his heart in his mouth and his brain apparently gone walkabout, Dick had an idea. With no small amount of trepidation, he crossed the room and stopped in front of her table. Slowly, he extended his hand to her. Charlie looked up, her eyes curiously travelling up the length of his arm until she met his gaze. Then her mouth opened a little and she began to shake her head when she realised what he wanted to do. Dick chuckled at her expression but didn't retract his offered hand.

"C'mon, I don't bite." He wiggled his fingers. To his surprise, Charlie smirked.

"More's the pity." She reached out and took his hand. Dick was so pleased that he was holding her hand, he almost missed what she said.

"Hey, I knew you had a darker sense of humour under all those manners," he teased, gently pulling Charlie to her feet.

"You caught me at a rare moment of weakness."

"Sure, sure." He took her other hand and helpfully placed it on his shoulder. Charlie laughed out of amusement and simply because she was just so happy at that moment. She could talk to this man for the rest of her life and never once get tired. The warmth of his hand on her waist brought her back to the present. They both laughed nervously as they looked down at their feet, trying to coordinate themselves properly. "Okay, here we go," Dick murmured, then he stepped forward and she followed easily, slowly making their way across the room in an amateur waltz that would win no prizes, but felt just perfect to them. They stepped in almost perfect time, although there was the occasional trodden-on foot and a raucous laugh whenever they knocked heads trying to look down at their feet. Soon they slowed down and found a rhythm just gently stepping backwards and forwards in circles to the heart-tugging music. They moved in silence, apart from when they laughed uncontrollably, and Charlie thought it best to distract herself from how incredible it felt to dance with such a wonderful man.

"I've always wanted to learn how to play the piano," she murmured, making Dick look down at her curiously. Her gaze had drifted to the old instrument in the corner, a wistful expression on her face.

"Why haven't you?" He kept his voice low but conversational. Charlie shrugged and readjusted her hand on his shoulder, her thumb absentmindedly sliding back and forth in a way that made Dick's face a little hot.

"Because neither of my parents knew how and they couldn't afford lessons." She looked back up at him with bright hazel eyes that made his stomach somersault. "I love listening to you, you're the highlight of my day. But I can't help but feel a little envious." Dick felt his face grow red at the compliment. Just knowing that she liked to hear him play was enough to send his head spinning, but that coupled with her beautiful smile was almost too much to bear.

"Maybe I could teach you a thing or two?" He suggested nervously but Charlie shook her head.

"Oh, no, you don't have to," she said, her gaze dropping to his chest. Dick chuckled and took a slight step closer to her, praying that she wouldn't notice. She did and she loved it.

"Forget about it, it'll be fun."

"Really?" Charlie couldn't quite believe that he would offer her such a wonderful gift. She had yearned to play an instrument since she was a young girl and the piano had always fascinated her the most. That was why she loved to listen to Dick play. Well, it was half the reason. "Richard, thank you." She squeezed his shoulder gratefully. Dick shrugged, not saying anything in reply but his bashful smile told her everything she needed to know. There was silence again for a moment as the song slowly drew closer to its end. Dick pressed his lips together in thought, trying to decide whether he should ask the question that had been on his mind all day. He heard Charlie give a contented sigh as the music swelled and decided it would be alright to ask her.

"Why did you leave earlier?" Charlie looked up at him and opened her mouth to speak but he was faster. "And don't tell me it was because you had work to do." She shut her mouth with a small snap and smiled ruefully. "Are you okay?" His concerned expression made her chest feel tight. She felt so fortunate that she was able to see it, to know that he cared about her. She heaved a long sigh and thought back to their earlier conversation, to the awful feeling she had when they told her Disney's plans.

"I'm fine." Charlie thought perhaps she glorified the company too much and often forgot that it was just that, a company, a business. "I just don't like lying to her." She thought back to the time they showed Mrs. Travers the first drawings and how distressed she was when she saw that they'd changed minute details. How upset was she going to be when Disney went back on his word and involved animation in the film? Dick sighed and pulled her closer as they swayed back and forth, side to side.

"I know, me neither," he told her softly. "None of us do." Now Charlie felt guilty. She'd shot the messenger. She'd pinned the blame on Don and the brothers when really, they had nothing to do with it. Charlie hoped they would forgive her when she exuberantly apologised tomorrow. "But a lot of hard work had gone into this picture long before she got here and she was about to tear it all down." Charlie nodded, embarrassed at how ridiculous she had acted.

"I know, you're right, you're right." She found it hard to meet his eyes. She felt so awful for directing her anger at her friends. Fortunately, Dick seemed to have forgiven her. Charlie met his gaze, her mouth all screwed up with worry. "She'll be alright, won't she?" Dick exhaled sharply and stepped away, keeping hold of her hands.

"What? A tough, old dame like her?" He gently guided her so that she span under his arm before pulling her back against him in one smooth motion. "She'll be fine."

* * *

Walt looked up from the letter he was writing when he heard a brisk knock on his office door. A short man with a kind, wrinkled face stepped in, his friendly smile impossibly bright.

"Hey, Walt!" He greeted the film-maker warmly. Walt smiled right back, pleased to see his old friend.

"Ernie, good to see ya!" He stood from his desk and energetically shook the man's hand. Ernie Meade was one of the studio's top directors, he had worked with Walt since the very beginning. They were firm friends and Disney was always pleased to see him.

"Listen, I was wondering if I might ask a favour," Ernie proposed as he found a seat in Walt's office. Disney shrugged and sat down on the edge of his desk, his hands in his pockets.

"Ask away." If Ernie needed something, there was usually a good reason for it. The older man grunted as he settled himself in a comfy chair, moving his hands about excitedly as he spoke.

"You see, we were going through the archives and we realised we've lost all the film we base the dance sequences on when the artists get drawing." Disney pulled a face and sighed.

"Oh, that's a real shame," he said, genuinely upset about their misfortune. He knew how hard his employees worked and it was terrible to lose something that helped them so much. Ernie nodded glumly but he'd had an idea.

"I was thinking I might borrow two of your guys working on the music for 'Mary'." This surprised Walt but he saw no reason to disagree.

"Sure, who?" Ernie nodded behind him in the general direction of the rehearsal room.

"Uh, Dick Sherman and that girl he's dancing with. I don't know her name." Walt frowned and sat back on his desk.

"What girl?" He asked. "What dancing?"

"In the rehearsal room? I was just walking past when I saw 'em dancing away to an old record." Walt raised his eyebrows, a smile beginning to form on his face.

"Really?"

* * *

"You were right." Dick opened his eyes and looked down at the woman in his arms.

"Hm?" Charlie laughed at his sleepy smile and quiet voice, as if he'd just woken from a daydream.

"This is nice." Her eyes widened a fraction and she looked away. "The music, I mean," she added hastily. Dick chuckled at her embarrassed smile and she felt it rumble in his chest against the palm of her hand. Eventually, the redness in her cheeks cleared and Charlie relaxed again. The song had long since changed but they kept dancing, slowly swaying back and forth. His arm was wrapped around her waist, holding her close. Charlie leaned closer and rested her head against his shoulder. Dick hesitated for a moment, but when he saw how comfortable she was, he took a chance and rested his chin on top of her head. He closed his eyes again and let himself get lost in the moment. Charlie was so warm, and her hair was so soft, and she smelled so sweet, he couldn't get enough. He could stay like that forever. Of course, that was when the music room door burst open and their boss came striding in, rubbing his palms together.

"Good news, boys and girls, I've got a job for ya!" He boomed excitedly. Charlie's head shot up so quickly, she nearly butted Dick's chin. They jumped apart with bright red faces.

"Walt! Ernie!" Dick looked fearfully between the two senior members of staff. "We were just-"

"Dancing beautifully," Ernie interrupted, his eager smile stretching from one ear to the other. "We need you two to be reference models for our archives." Charlie, now that she'd managed to get her heart rate and her breathing back to normal, glanced cautiously at Dick then back at the two men.

"I don't understand."

"Well, when our very talented young artists are drawing for our pictures," Disney began to explain, pausing to smile directly at Charlie. "Sometimes they need to see how an object looks when it's used, or how a person's hair or clothes move."

"We'd like you two to dance for us so we can film it and store it away for when we need it." Finished Ernie. Walt looked between the pair expectantly.

"What do ya say?" They weren't in trouble? They weren't being questioned about why they were slow dancing in the music room? They were being offered a fun opportunity?  _What_? Charlie was beyond confused, her mind exclusively focused on how relieved she was, so Dick answered for them.

"Yeah, okay, sure." He glanced at Charlie to make sure she was okay with it. She nodded and he smiled, looking back at his boss. "So long as it doesn't interrupt our work on this picture."

"It'll only take a minute. Half an hour at the most," Ernie assured them. He seemed like a sweet man, very enthusiastic about his work, which pleased Charlie.

"Then yes, we'd love to," she said, making Ernie chuckle.

"Great! Come by tomorrow afternoon and we'll get you in your costumes." He told them before he and Walt raised their hands in farewell and left just as quickly as they arrived.

"See you tomorrow," Disney called over his shoulder. When the door closed behind him, Charlie turned to Dick and let out an excited, disbelieving breath.

"Wow!" Was all she could manage, laughing a little at her own speechlessness. Dick chuckled and walked closer to her.

"Sounds like fun, don't you think?"

"It certainly does." She still couldn't quite believe what they'd just gotten away with. Dick smirked down at her, his hands in his pockets making him look even more mischievous.

"And all because you got up and danced with me." 

"Hm. Maybe we should dance more often in the future," she shot back, determined to make him blush. Dick gave her a curious look that she didn't quite understand. He smiled, but there was something in his eyes she couldn't read, as if he was thinking about something that had him distracted.

"Maybe we should." He and Charlotte kept up the staring match until she eventually conceded and smiled slowly, feeling so incredibly happy she thought she might burst. Dick returned the smile and was just about to ask if she was ready to leave when he suddenly remembered something that Ernie said. "Wait, did he say costumes?"


	8. Chapter 8

Dick seesawed uneasily to and fro, leaning right forward on his toes then all the way back to his heels, then forwards again. His hands were folded behind his back, his teeth worrying his bottom lip as he waited. Anticipation, that was the feeling that coursed through his body. A strange mixture of nervousness and excitement. That's why he'd come outside, to get some fresh air whilst he waited for Charlie to arrive.

He had decided, after much deliberation, that today would be The Day. He was going to do it, he was going to ask her out. Dick realised he'd already done so but that hadn't really worked out and that was before all the... All the stuff they had going on now. He wouldn't dare call it flirting, that was far too casual. Whenever he spoke to Charlotte, it felt like his chest was going to burst with excitement and his jaw always ached from all the smiling he did. That couldn't be flirting, that was something else entirely.

So, he'd decided that after Ernie was done with them, he would ask her out. Dick thought they could get something to eat and then maybe go for a walk. Charlie hadn't seen much of the city yet and he was always happiest when he was talking to her so it would be perfect.

Oh, he was nervous. Dick had never been so nervous about anything in all his life. The fresh air helped a little but his heart was pounding impossibly hard, and she wasn't even here yet. At this rate, he'd be just a puddle on the floor by the time Charlie arrived. Dick was standing by the roadside, just outside the entrance to the lot. Doug, the old security guard, watched him suspiciously from inside his little metal box, which really didn't help with his nerves.

Dick was just about to go back inside to wait when a taxi cab rolled to halt by the curb and Charlotte stepped out. From a distance, he couldn't see her drawn expression or her untidy appearance, but to be honest, he was far too excited to notice much of anything. The artist fumbled in her bag and vaguely passed some money through the open window of the cab before she straightened up and began to make her way over to the gate. Dick took a deep breath and smiled widely at the woman.

"Hey, Charlie." She gave him a wobbly smile in return as she walked up to meet him.

"Goo mornig." Charlie replied groggily. Dick immediately knew something was wrong. His pounding heart was forgotten and concern took over.

"Are you okay?" He asked slowly, his clever brown eyes flicking over her face. "You look a little pale." Charlie looked more than that. Her dishevelled appearance was very out of character and her eyes, they'd lost their shine. Charlotte airily waved a hand, although it looked like it took quite some effort to do so.

"Oh, I'm fibe!" She said lightly. They both frowned when she couldn't properly form the last word. "I'm fibe." She repeated, but no luck. "Fibn. _Fime_." Charlie shook her head and gave him a weak smile. "I'm alright." She said instead. Dick tilted his head with an incredulous look.

"You're sick." He realised. Charlie shook her head hurriedly, then instantly regretted it when her brain span.

"Of course I'm no' ill." She mumbled, pulling her cardigan around her tightly. "I'm neber ill." Dick chuckled at her childishness.

"You should go home." He told her, firm but kind. Charlie tutted and shook her head again, although a little more carefully this time.

"No, I promiss thab I'm finb." He realised it was her blocked nose that was muffling her words. Dick grinned impishly at her.

"Could you repeat that for me?" Charlotte glared at him.

"I'm finb." She said again, carefully repeating the word, desperately trying to sound normal but with no luck. Dick wouldn't have been able to stop smiling if his life depended on it.

"One more time?" He held a hand up to his ear and leaned closer. Charlotte huffed, her pretty face scrunching up in frustration.

"Finb! I'm ill! So wha'? I can do my work juss as well as I usually cam!" Her voice all raspy from her sore throat and it shouldn't be, but it really was quite sexy. Dick attempted to push the thought from his mind but didn't try very hard. Charlie still looked determined. Yes, her nose was running like a tap. Yes, the head-full-of-cotton-wool feeling had increased tenfold. And yes, Dick looked a little blurry through her watery eyes, but she was never ill and she wouldn't be beaten by a stupid cold. Dick only shook his head at her furious expression.

"Go home." He told her firmly, all thoughts about their session with Ernie and his plans to ask her out gone from his mind. If Charlotte wasn't feeling well, he would be damned if he let her lift a finger. Charlie obviously had other ideas.

"But-"

"Charlotte." Dick said sternly, using her full name for the first time since they met. If he hadn't been her friend, Charlotte probably would've trodden on his foot very hard, but instead, she only pouted and let out a long sigh. Dick took this is a sign of surrender, so he stepped aside and walked to the edge of the road. "I'll get you a taxi." Charlotte huffed again, not wanting to be mollycoddled when she felt just fine. Well, she felt awful, but she loved her job and she didn't want to be kept from it.

"Okay, bu' at least lemme get my stuff so I cam worg at homb." She begged, gesturing vaguely to the Studios with a wistful glance. It took Dick a second to figure out what she'd said but after he'd interpreted her words, he lowered an eyebrow, his hand still raised in mid-air to hail a cab.

"I don't think so." He replied, just as another yellow taxi pulled up beside them. Charlotte groaned, all she wanted was for everything to go on as normal. This wasn't normal, this was cosseting and she wouldn't stand for it. Before she could open her mouth to complain, her taxi driver threw open his door, nearly hitting Dick, and was pointed at her.

"Oh, hey! It's you!" He cried as he loudly chewed on a piece of bubble gum. "How's it going, duchess?" Charlotte wrinkled her nose at the young man for a second before she recognised him. It was the young man, Jimmy, who had driven her to the Studios on her first day. Charlie remembered his total disregard for road safety very well.

"Yes, hello." She replied distractedly before turning back to her friend. "Richard, please. I neeb my things." Dick shook his head, determined not to give in.

"No, you don't."

"Richard." She groaned, only just managing not to let her head fall into her hands out of frustration and because of how awful she felt. She could barely keep her eyes open and she didn't have any tissue to wipe her runny nose. Dick sighed and stepped away from the taxi so that he stood right in front of her.

"You don't need to work, you need sleep." He told her gently, trying a different approach. Unfortunately, his new tactics were spoiled by the lout in the taxi.

"Yeah, c'mon, your majesty." Although her head felt like it was full of water and her whole body ached, Charlotte slowly turned her heated glare to the teenager.

"Stay out of this." She commanded in a low, powerful voice that Dick liked very much, then she turned back to the musician. "Richard-"

"You need fluids and a warm bed, not work."

"Richard."

"Charlotte, it'll be fine!" He laughed, not understanding why she was so hell-bent on fighting him. Then he paused, his eyebrows slowly drawing together in a frown. "Is your dress the wrong way around?" Charlotte frowned as well then looked down at her clothes. Her dress was indeed on back-to-front. She'd been so out of it that morning that she hadn't noticed she wasn't dressing herself properly. Charlie looked up at him again and blinked calmly.

"No. This is how we wear dresses in England." Dick couldn't help but think that if Charlotte hadn't chosen a career in art, she would've made a fantastic actress. He gave her a look then opened the door of the car for her.

"Get in the cab." Seeing the look on his face, Charlotte knew there was no way she was getting out of it. She gave a long weary sigh and shuffled towards the taxi.

"I hay you." She muttered as she flopped into the backseat. Dick smiled and bent down to speak to her through the open door.

"I know you do." He said quietly, reaching into the car and attentively stroking his thumb across her cheek. Charlie allowed herself a smile at his caring gesture but then he grinned impishly. "Get well soon!" He pulled his hand  back and Charlotte remembered that she was supposed to be cross with him.

"Shu' up." She mumbled, her words still muffled by her blocked nose. Dick chuckled as he shut the door behind her then patted the roof of the cab. He watched her drive away before he stuffed his hands into his pockets and headed back inside, his day now considerably less exciting than it was going to be, but he was happy that Charlie was safe.

As they hurtled down the busy streets at breakneck speed, Charlie rested her swimming head against the window. The shuddering vibrations only made her feel worse but by that point, she was just too exhausted to care. She'd dragged herself out of bed that morning and just about managed to get herself dressed and ready, even if she hadn't been particularly successful. Charlie was very thankful, despite her initial protestations, to be sent home again. Her driver looked back at her in the rear-view mirror and sent her a cheeky smile.

"Your boyfriend cares about you a lot, huh?" Charlotte slowly lifted her head from the window and sent him that heated, penetrating glare again. Jimmy's eyes widened a fraction and he turned to look back at the road. "Shut up? Yeah, okay." Charlotte sighed and leaned her head against the headrest, closing her eyes wearily.

Now that she was on her way home again, she could finally get to grips with just how awful she felt. It had started yesterday but her illness had slowly diminished throughout the remainder of the day. Now it had come back with a vengeance and she could barely hold her head upright. Thank God for Richard.

She repeated her driver's words over and over in her head. _Your boyfriend cares about you a lot, huh?_ Charlie tried to suppress a smile but couldn't quite manage it. That sweet, gentle touch was all she needed to feel better. Just to know he cared about her made Charlie's heart feel like it was ricocheting around inside her chest.

She pictured her musician in her head, that crooked smile and those eyes. She almost let out a giggle but thankfully stopped herself in time. Richard cared about her and it seemed the whole world knew it. Charlotte settled back into her seat, now deaf to the blaring horns and screeching tyres outside. All she could think about was him and how much she wanted to dance with him again.

-

Dick meandered through the Studios until he reached unfamiliar territory. He hadn't spent much time away from where he, his brother and Don worked, and so the rest of Studios were a bit of a mystery to him.

He had Ernie's directions ingrained firmly in his memory but it still took him a little while to find the man's office. It was practically on the other side of the lot. Dick eventually found the right door and knocked three times before entering. Ernie Meade's office was very ordered and clean, much like Charlotte's, although there was a lot less colour. The old man was sat at his desk, his pen thoughtfully tapping his chin as he read from a piece of paper.

"Hey, Ernie." Dick hoped he didn't look as nervous as he felt. Ernie was one of the head honchos in the company and a close friend of Walt's. If he was being honest, Dick felt a little intimidated by the man but Ernie looked up from his work with an excited grin.

"Hey, Dick!" He jumped up from his chair in a way he wouldn't have thought possible for a man of his age. Ernie looked at his watch. "You're a little early," He told him, "But if you're ready we can-"

"Actually that's the reason I came to see you." Dick carefully interrupted. Ernie looked confused and he gave him an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, but we can't do today. Charlie's sick." Dick thought perhaps the older man might be a little angry that his time had been wasted but luckily for him and Charlotte, Ernie was incredibly sympathetic. He saw the worried look on Dick's face and waved him off.

"Oh, well, that's okay. We can do it tomorrow, or whenever she's feeling better." Dick was beyond relieved. The opportunity they had been given was wonderful and he knew that Charlotte would feel awful about not being well enough to turn up.

"Really?" He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit of his. "Oh, great, thank you! I know she'd be worried about letting you down." Ernie scoffed, brushing off his unnecessary apologies.

"She hasn't. See you both soon." He said kindly. Dick thanked him one last time before turning to leave. Just as he was walking out of the door, Ernie called after him, "And tell Charlie 'get well soon' from me!"

"I will!" Dick raised his hand in farewell and left the room. Once he shut the door behind him, he let out a long breath. Ernie seemed like a nice man, he had no reason to be nervous of him, but still Dick's heart hammered in his chest despite the conversation having only lasted a few seconds. Shaking his head, he sighed and retraced his earlier steps so that after a few minutes, he arrived at what had quickly become his second home. He was pleased to see that his brother and Don were there to meet him. "Hey!" He greeted them warmly, and in return, they offered the same reply.

"Hey!" Dick went to stand near the piano to see what his brother had decided they were going to work on that day. He chose the music yesterday, so now it was Bob's turn. It was a childish system really, but they _were_ brothers after all and it did work. Don frowned when he noticed they were one short that morning.

"Where's Charlie?" He looked back to the door in case she was about to enter. "Haven't you two got a thing today?" Dick nodded, his attention drawn to the sheet music his brother had passed to him.

"She wasn't feeling well, so I sent her home." He told them quietly. He was distracted by the music before him but his friends misinterpreted his soft tone as a kind of pensive sadness.

"Oh, that's a shame." Don said carefully, sending Bob a meaningful look that the musician returned.

"Ready for the next part?" Dick asked his friend and Don smiled brightly.

"Yeah, sure. What did you have in mind?" Dick looked to his brother, who held up the sheet music for Don to see.

"'Step in Time'?" Bob suggested, waving the paper enticingly. Don nodded, taking a seat in the corner where he could write.

"'Step in Time' it is."

-

Charlotte was bored. She had never been so bored in all her life. How was it that in one of the most popular and exciting cities in the world, she managed to get herself cooped up indoors with a cold? It was especially annoying because it was at least 1000° outside and so she was simultaneously bunged up and sweaty. Things could not get any worse for her. Charlie missed her office, she missed her friends, and she hated that she had to miss out on Ernie Meade's proposition. She hoped the offer was still standing when she barged through the doors tomorrow, whether she was feeling better or not.

She'd spent her day padding around her hotel room, which she'd always hated doing. Charlie wasn't a lounger, she was a go-getter. She hated sitting still when there was so much to do. She still hadn't explored a lot of the city and then there was all the work she would have to catch up on when she got back.

Her fuzzy head and watery vision stopped her from working at home, so she'd slept for most of the day. The rest of her time had been spent trying to make herself feel better. Charlie had the window flung open so that she had some fresh air and she had wrapped herself in her warmest clothes, despite the hot temperature.

She wondered what her boys were getting up to and how they were faring without her invaluable advice and assistance. Charlie missed them terribly and she missed her work as well. She didn't feel right unless she had a pencil in her hand and a sheet of paper out in front of her. Charlotte sighed and willed her headache and sore throat to fix themselves as she melted back into the cushions of her bed.

-

"Now, if you are insisting on this musicality, which you feel is so important in my film, then perhaps I should hear another of your little ditties." The Shermans and Don exchanged uncertain glances at Mrs. Travers' words. This new attitude she had was very disconcerting. She said she was ready and willing to listen but something in her smile had them all feeling a little wary. The author sat down in her chair and clapped her hands. "I shall keep an open mind." Mrs. Travers promised but again that smile made them nervous. They were silent for a moment, not entirely sure what to do, when Don spoke up.

"Do 'Nanny'." He suggested. The brothers turned to each other as if they were of one mind and silently agreed with Don. The last time they had played this particular song, it got a very warm reception. However, they'd only shown it to Don, Charlotte and Walt. Who knew how Mrs. Travers would take it. Dick cleared his throat and carefully placed his fingers on the piano keys.

"The Perfect Nanny." He announced, then he began to play. He could hear his brother sigh beside him as he read aloud from the sheet music in front of them.

"Wanted: a nanny for two adorable children." They didn't see the way Mrs. Travers closed her eyes wearily and tucked her chin into her chest, but Don did. He lowered his gaze to the floor when Mrs. Travers looked up again, pretending he hadn't noticed.

"If you want this choice position, have a cheery disposition." Sang Dick, trying his best to replicate the Edwardian English accent as best as he could so that Mrs. Travers would hear the tune as it would be performed in the film. His efforts went unnoticed as the author crossed her arms, her brow creasing irritably after only the first line of the song.

"Cheery? Cheery?" She repeated incredulously. However, Dick was determined to actually finish a song for once and continued to play over the top of her. He sang a louder and perhaps pressed the piano keys a little harder than he should have.

"Rosy cheeks, no warts."

"Warts?"

"Play games."

"Don't be silly."

"All sorts." Don did a flouncy little dance in front of the piano which made Dick smile a little wider as he continued to play. "You must be kind, you must be witty. Very sweet and fairly pretty."

"Well, of all the ridiculous-"

"Take us on outings, give us treats. Sing songs, bring sweets."

"No sweets. Wouldn't be allowed. Wouldn't be allowed!" Mrs. Travers had impeded their hard work one too many times and Dick was certain that it would not happen again. So, despite her interjections, which she had assured them would be minimal, he kept on playing. Meanwhile, Bob and Don were trying to stop themselves from laughing as Dick barrelled right over everything Pamela said, almost as if the two of them were performing a duet.

"Never be cross or cruel, never gives us castor oil or gruel." He pulled a disgusted face, hoping to get a laugh out of his friends, which he did. Although, it was strange not to hear Charlie's laughter amongst theirs. He'd almost forgotten she wasn't with them. It was so rare for her not to be by his side, he'd begun to assume she would always be there. Something he would soon discover to be quite problematic.

"No, no, no, not ca- No one would give them castor oil, no one would dream of it!"

"And never smell of barley water!" Mrs. Travers leaned forward in her chair and shook her head patronisingly at the brothers.

"What in the world does smelling of barley water have to do with anything?" But Bob was ready this time and he pointed right back at her.

"That was from your book! That was _directly_ from your book!" He shot back, a triumphant look on his face. Don shrugged, his elbows now resting on the top of the piano.

"Yeah, he's right, that's in the book." He added helpfully. Mrs. Travers frowned, finding herself quite lost for words. She looked away from them all, seeming quite put off by the revelation. As Dick began to sing again, he could see his brother's proud smirk out of the corner of his eye and had to force down a grin.

"If you won't scold and dominate us, we will never give you cause to hate us."

"They wouldn't use the word 'hate', it's too-" Mrs. Travers stopped herself as Dick kept singing over the top of her. She buttoned her lip, trying hard not to interrupt but finding it difficult to keep her promise.

"We won't hide your spectacles so you can't see."

"Ridiculous!" She muttered. "No. No. No, no, no."

"Put toads in your bed or pepper in your tea." Mrs. Travers gave an exasperated sigh and turned, slapping her hands on the table as she tried to locate the microphone hooked up to the tape recorder. "Hurry, Nanny."

"Nobody's listening to me!" She shouted into microphone before slamming it down on the table for emphasis. Dick smiled a little to himself as he played the next couple of lines, the words that Charlotte had helped them with.

"Many thanks. Sincerely, Jane and Michael Banks!" The brothers looked up expectantly, Bob fearing the worst but Dick looked almost cartoonish with his optimistic smile. Mrs. Travers sighed and dipped her head.

"Thank you." She breathed. "Most interesting." Dick looked up at his brother, quite pleased with her words, even if they weren't exactly complimentary, but then Mrs. Travers went on to say, "Because that's the worst song I've ever heard." She pouted her lips petulantly. "Ever." Dick's wide grin stayed plastered to his face but his eyes were weary.

"Alright!" He cried as he picked up the sheet music and threw it over his shoulder. Don sighed and rested his head in his hands

"Okay, uh..." He mumbled, trying to decide where to go from there.

The three colleagues grew increasingly aggravated with Mrs. Travers as the day wore on. They even tried, in a last-ditch attempt to impress her, showing her one of their latest, although incomplete, songs. 'Step in Time', as they had named it, was an incredibly jolly tune that they hoped would make the audience want to get up and dance. Although, it only seemed to make Mrs. Travers want to get up and leave.

Dick rubbed his eyes with his index finger and thumb. He was exhausted, they all were. He needed a break. He voiced his suggestion to his workmates and they all readily agreed, especially Mrs. Travers, who left the room in such a hurry, she was almost a blur. Dick waved goodbye to his friends then followed the author out the door, heading to the front office where he was desperate to make a call.

-

Charlotte was just settling down in front of the television after a long nap when the telephone rang. The noisy clanging of the machine made her jump and she almost fell off the sofa as she attempted to get up, her legs getting tangled in the layers upon layers of blankets she had buried herself under. She grabbed for the handset and only just managed to pick it up before the caller gave in.

"Hello?" She asked breathlessly. She hadn't been expecting any calls, the few people she knew in the city would still be at work at that hour.

"Charlie, hi!" Well, apparently not all of them. Although she was pleased to hear his voice, Charlotte wasn't one to give in easily.

"Oh, hello, traitor." She replied coldly, though she didn't mean it in the slightest. Clearly, Dick knew her better than she thought because he chuckled.

"Would you let it go?" Charlotte grinned and sat down on the footboard of her bed, the long wire connected to the telephone snaking across the floor.

"Never." She replied shortly, even giving a haughty sniff for good measure. "I've been bored out of my mind all day." Now that was the truth. Still Dick chuckled and despite herself, she smiled too.

"Apart from that, how're you feeling, sweetheart?" He asked gently. For a moment, Charlotte was so flabbergasted by his term of endearment that she almost forgot to reply.

"Better." She stammered eventually, once she'd gotten all her turbulent thoughts in order. "But I'm so far behind on my work now." She could practically hear her friend roll his eyes.

"No, you're not, don't be so overdramatic." Charlotte pouted, she didn't like it when he got to be the witty, clever one in their conversations.

"Shut up." She muttered childishly, making Dick laugh again. This time she joined him as she got up from her bed to walk around with the phone.

"Well, you certainly sound better." He noted. She felt better too. Her throat was no longer sore and her watery vision had cleared, but her head still felt fuzzy so she didn't dare jinx it by agreeing with him. "How's the hotel food?" Charlotte glanced to the door where her room-service lunch was waiting to be taken away by the porter.

"It's alright but I won't have to eat it much longer."

"Yeah, when are you moving into your new apartment?" Charlie frowned as she bent down to turn off the television set. She slowly straightened up, her lips parting perplexedly.

"What?"

"I was gonna offer to help you move, if you want?" Dick chuckled and put on a deep voice. "Show off my manly strength by helping move boxes." He was trying to make a joke but a familiar knot was beginning to tie in the pit of Charlie's stomach.

"Richard, I'm not getting a new apartment." She said quietly but it seemed he didn't quite understand what she meant.

"A new house then."

"I'm not buying anything."

"Well, you can't live in a hotel forever, Charles. Especially if you don't like the food." Charlotte closed her eyes, starting to feel an entirely different kind of sick now. She'd assumed that he knew. She thought that she wouldn't have to have this conversation. Or perhaps, she had just naïvely hoped she wouldn't.

"Richard, after I've finished my work, I won't be staying." Charlie told him softly. There was a pause on the other end of the line and Charlie began to nervously knot the telephone cable around her fingers.

"What?" Dick murmured after what felt like an eternity had passed. Charlotte pressed the handset hard against her ear, her eyes screwing tightly shut.

"When I'm done, I'm going home to London." It felt like all the air had left the room. There was another lengthy pause and Charlotte thought for a moment that he must've hung up, but then, ever so quietly, he simply muttered,

"Oh." Charlotte slowly sank down onto her mattress, her free hand covering her face miserably.

"I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"No, no, I'm being an idiot." Dick interrupted her quickly, trying to backtrack and appear like he wasn't shocked at all. "Of course you're not staying, of course you're..." He was silent again and Charlotte rested her head in her hands in agony. She never wanted to have this conversation, it was truly heartbreaking. "When are you..?" He trailed off and Charlotte tried to get her mouth working again.

"I don't know, a few weeks? Whenever they don't need a concept artist anymore." She tried to make a joke but her voice cracked and it made them both flinch.

"Oh, yeah." Dick said uselessly, clearly feeling as lost for words as she did. There was yet another silence and Charlie couldn't quite believe that the man on the other end of the telephone was her bright, joyous friend who she had never seen without a smile, let alone sound this sombre.

"Richard-"

"I missed you today." His tone was considerably lighter than before. She thought perhaps he was trying to gloss over their conversation and just carry on as best as they could. Charlie was grateful for the change of subject and she tried to smile, although she was glad he wasn't there with her because anyone could clearly see how forced it was.

"It's only been eight hours." She laughed softly.

"That's far too long." Dick said, starting to sound like his usual self again. Charlotte looked down at the floor, trying to regenerate her watery smile.

"I missed you too." She could easily imagine the delighted look on his face. "H- How was your day?"

"Same old, same old. Mrs. Travers doesn't like our new song." Well, at least things were continuing as normal at work. Charlotte made a cross sound as she laid down on the bed, the phone still pressed to her ear as she listened intently.

"What was it about?" She asked, feeling out of the loop after only a day.

"Oh, it's great, you'll love it! It's called 'Step- What?" Charlotte frowned before she realised he must be talking to someone else. She could hear what she suspected was Bob's voice in the background. She was right, everyone she knew was at work. Dick's break had obviously gone on for too long. "Okay. Yeah, okay. Just a second. I'm sorry, Charlie, I've gotta go." Dick said, and she was surprised when his attention suddenly returned to her.

"No, that's fine, don't worry." Charlie said quickly, not wanting him to get into trouble because of her. "I'll see you tomorrow." Her voice sounded almost hopeful, like she was asking a question. His smirk was audible.

"I'll be counting the seconds." Dick promised, making her roll her eyes.

"Goodbye." Charlie said firmly and heard him laugh.

"Bye." She was just about to put down the phone when Charlie found she wasn't quite finished with him yet.

"Oh, Richard?" She cried, hoping that she wasn't too late and he hadn't already put the telephone down. Fortunately, she hadn't missed him.

"Yes, sweetheart?" That word again, that term of endearment that he had never used for her before. It made her heart soar in her chest.

"Thank you. For caring and for calling." Charlie said gently. Dick went quiet again but only for a second, then he replied,

"Get well soon, Charlotte." She smiled at his words, spoken with such affection and fondness that she could hardly believe it. "See you tomorrow."

"Bye." She said softly, then she finally put down the telephone. Charlie let out a long, maddened groan and fell back down on the soft sheets. Her hands covered her eyes, trying to block out the world and sort out all the troubled thoughts that raged like wildfire inside her head. All her fears and anxieties boiled down to one point, she decided. "Oh, God, I'm in trouble."

-

Dick hurried back into the music room where he'd yet again left his colleagues alone with Mrs. Travers. The cantankerous woman was sharing more of her disapproval about their latest song, although, to be fair, she seemed to hate it a lot less than the others, so that was something. How low had they sunk if her displeasure was in fact a step forward?

Despite the tangible tension in the room, Dick couldn't help but smile. Talking to Charlotte always made him feel better and it appeared, although he couldn't say for certain, that the feeling was mutual. His grin was so out of place that his brother felt the need to lean over the piano and ask him,

"What're you smiling about?" Dick tried to suppress his pleased expression but found it impossible.

"I just got off the phone with Charlie." He said casually. Don and Bob immediately understood.

"Oh." They said in unison, making Dick roll his eyes.

But then the subject they discussed began to settle in his mind. How could he be so stupid as to assume that she'd be staying? He'd never even thought about it. Dick had been so completely enthralled by her that he hadn't even considered the possibility that she wouldn't be staying long. His day had gone from bad to worse very quickly and it was apparent on his face. Don leaned his elbows on the piano beside him, giving him a puzzled look.

"What's wrong?" Dick looked from the writer to his brother, his smile slowly melting away.

"She's leaving." He told them softly. "In a few weeks." Bob felt his heart sink. He and Don always teased Dick about it, but the connection between him and Charlie was strong. Anyone could see that they were two halves of the same whole. None of them, even before Charlotte had become a true part of the family, had ever thought about her leaving one day.

"Oh, God. Dick, I'm so sorry." Bob murmured. Don rested his hand on his shoulder comfortingly. Dick shrugged and shook his head, feigning indifference.

"What? No, what're you talking about? It's fine." He told them but he didn't meet their eyes. Don frowned and gestured vaguely with his free hand.

"Yeah, but you-"

"It's fine." Dick said suddenly, surprising them both with his firmness. His eyes were stony and his jaw was set. This was not the same Dick Sherman from a few minutes ago. "Let's just... Let's just finish this." He sighed and turned away from the piano.

Bob and Don exchanged worried glances. This cold, unfeeling act that their friend was putting on was very unlike Dick. He was the youngest, the most carefree and certainly the most optimistic of their trio, but Dick cared about Charlotte more than he'd ever cared about a girl. When she left, they couldn't be sure of how he'd respond. Taking deep breaths, the musician and the writer tried to put their morose thoughts to the backs of their minds and got on with the task at hand.


	9. Chapter 9

It had rained that morning, so the taxi's tyres stuck to the road as they flew through the city. Tall buildings and bright people blurred before Charlie's eyes as they zoomed past. Half of her time was spent in taxis these days, she thought, and the other half was spent at the Studios. One day's rest had grown into two, as Charlotte had felt increasingly worse towards the evening. Scientifically speaking, she was certain it couldn't have been because of the excruciating phone call, although she supposed it couldn't have helped. Now, with a clear head and fully-functioning limbs, Charlie was feeling infinitely better. Well, she wasn't ill anymore, but there was still a heavy weight in her chest that sometimes made it hard to breathe. Her conversation with Richard had buried itself inside her mind, creating a permanent lump in her throat that made her feel sick. It was foolish to think that they could forget about it and just move on, but she could hope that it wouldn't change their relationship.

When she finally arrived at the Studios, she suddenly felt very nervous. She didn't think she'd be able to look him in the eye. Charlotte couldn't help but feel guilty, even if in reality, she hadn't done anything wrong. She hadn't told him, but she'd assumed he would know. It was all such a mess, caused by just a tiny misunderstanding. She clutched her portfolio tightly in her hands, trying to keep her cool as she crossed the lot. Then, she took a long, deep breath before she pushed open the door to the main office. She had expected Dolly to be there, to greet her warmly and ask how she was feeling, but she was surprised to find Richard waiting for her as well.

"Hello!" She said in surprise. Dick looked up and his face immediately split into a grin. He always forgot how beautiful she was, as if his subconscious couldn't even begin to recreate her in his mind. Today, she had her caramel curls back in a bun, and her lips were pale pink to match her dress. He slid off Dolly's desk and just stood there, smiling at her. Charlie beamed back, her chest beginning to flutter in a manner that had become very familiar when around the musician. She had missed him, and their ghastly telephone conversation had only made the separation harder. If she couldn't even go two days without missing him, how in the world was she supposed to move a thousand miles away? Or rather, five thousand, four hundred and forty-nine miles, if she was being specific, although that didn't really help. They both seemed to simultaneously realise that neither of them had spoken for quite a while, and poor Dolly, who was once again stuck between the two smiling idiots, could barely hold back an exasperated sigh. Richard ducked his head and made the first move, walking forwards to meet her by the door.

"Charles, how lovely it is to see you again." He told her, his tone teasing but gentle and caring. "You certainly look better." Charlotte's smile turned rueful as he made a show of looking her up and down. "And look, your dress is the right way around and everything." He added. Oh, that boyish, charming grin of his. It was going to get her into all sorts of trouble one day. Charlotte rolled her eyes and began to make her way towards the corridor, waving to Dolly on her way past.

"Ha ha, very funny." She replied bitterly, although her smile let him know she wasn't even a little bit cross with him. It seemed that her worries had been superfluous. They were talking and laughing as they always did. Her thudding heart was beginning to slow, now that she knew the revelation of her departure had not made things awkward for them. Dick looked down at his feet as they walked, his hands folded shyly behind his back.

"But seriously, I'm glad you're feeling better." He told her earnestly. Charlotte looked up at him and dipped her head in a slight nod of gratitude.

"Thank you." She replied softly as they continued their walk, side by side. "How many seconds did you get to?" Dick exhaled sharply through his nose, recalling the conversation they'd had the day before last. He'd promised he would count the seconds until he saw her again, and it certainly felt like he had.

"Far too many." He told her quietly, which made Charlie's cheeks grow a little red despite her efforts to remain calm and collected around him. They chatted idly as they walked the myriad of hallways until they reached her door.

"What's the plan for today?" She asked him brightly as she slotted her key into the lock. Dick stood back a bit, not wanting to crowd her.

"Uh, Ernie wants us in the studio at eleven, so we've gotta get going soon." He said, checking his watch briefly when the thought struck him.

"Alright, let me put my things away then we'll go." Charlotte muttered, her mind preoccupied with the lock which had suddenly decided to not accept her key. She twisted the key rapidly, even shaking the door handle for good measure before turning helplessly to Dick. Usually, she would've been able to deal with this sort of thing on her own. She considered herself to be quite independent, but she'd just gotten over a very bad cold, and didn't have the same patience she usually had. Dick chuckled at her hopeless expression and gestured for her to step aside. Charlotte heaved a weary sigh and leaned her shoulder against the wall, her head resting there too as she watched Richard struggle with the door. She still felt terribly guilty about the other day. It had been selfish of her to assume that she would be the only one affected by her departure. He hadn't brought it up, but that didn't mean that she shouldn't. Lowering her gaze to the floor, Charlie murmured, "Richard, about the other day..." But Dick shook his head, not removing his attention from the stiff lock.

"Hey, no, don't worry about it." He replied, a little distractedly as he brashly twisted and pulled at the door handle and the key. "Wow, this is really stuck, huh?"

"I should've said something earlier."

"I should've known, it's not your fault."

"I just-"

"It's okay, Charlie." He was finally looking at her, his dark brown eyes full of sincerity, but she couldn't meet his gaze. There was still something there, something hidden in his eyes, which told her it wasn't okay at all. She thought perhaps the same sadness must have flashed on her face too. With a heavy heart, she slowly looked up again and shook her head ever so slightly.

"No, it's not." She whispered. Dick couldn't look away from those eyes. His jaw set, his teeth clenching as he fought to stop his hands from shaking. He felt sick. No, of course it wasn't okay, it would never be okay. She couldn't leave, she just couldn't. How could he possibly even think about going about the rest of his life with the knowledge that she was happy and well and wonderful but not with him? But that was selfish, he shouldn't think like that. Her happiness was what mattered the most. But she didn't seem pleased about leaving. He eventually managed to tear his gaze away and gave the key one final jiggle, secretly venting all of his frustration at their situation into his actions. Finally, the lock clicked and he could turn the handle fully

"Ah! There you go!" He cried, trying to sound upbeat and change the subject, but they both knew that simply ignoring the problem wouldn't fix it. For now, however, it would suffice. "C'mon, let's not think about it. Drop your stuff off and we'll dance our troubles away." Charlotte gave a bashful smile and looked down at her shoes as she walked into her office.

"Alright." She agreed softly, trying her very best to forget about the harrowing event that would take place in only a few weeks' time. She carefully placed her portfolio on the floor by the door frame so that she could flick on the light switch. When she looked around, she let out a gasp of surprise. "Oh!" Her normally uniform desk was covered in a bright array of treats and gifts, and in the centre, a little sign that read 'Welcome Back!' Charlotte turned her bulging eyes and gaping mouth to her friend still in the doorway and he chuckled at her expression.

"I told ya we missed you." He said simply, a sweet half smile on his lips. Charlotte let out a disbelieving laugh as she turned back to her pile of favours.

"Oh, my word." She breathed as she tentatively reached out and began to look through them all. She couldn't believe it, she simply could not believe it. She could hear Dick talking to her as she perused her lovely gifts.

"We got a spare key from the janitor. Had to bribe him with a chocolate bar that Bob was saving, but he's over it." She could hear him absent-mindedly playing with the door handle as she picked up a gorgeous, smiling teddy bear. "Musta jammed the door accidentally on our way out." Dick looked up and saw her smiling fondly at the stuffed animal. "Uh, the chocolate is from Dolly, the bear is from Don, and the food is from Bob." By food, he meant the large amount of various fruits, pastries and sweets that took up most of her desk. She sent Dick a wry look, raising one eyebrow at his words. He chuckled and looked away, finding it hard to get his tongue to work when she looked at him like that. "He wasn't sure what to get, so I think he just got all of it." Charlotte snickered and carefully put the bear down again.

"And the meadow?" She asked, gesturing to the rainbow of flowers that sat clustered around the room. Richard ducked his head, obviously quite embarrassed by his token.

"Guilty." He muttered. Charlotte couldn't stop smiling if her life depended on it. This wonderful, incredible group of people, who she had known for a little less than a month, had shown such compassion with this gesture. She had only been gone for two days, what would they be like when she left permanently? She raised her arms and dropped them again, feeling absolutely dumbstruck.

"I don't know what to say." She said eventually, and felt tears begin to brim in her eyes. Dick heard her voice crack and immediately flew to her side, all his embarrassment gone.

"Oh, no, don't do that." He murmured, reaching up and gently smoothing away a stray tear with the pad of his thumb. Charlotte sniffed and laughed at her own speechlessness. She had never felt so overwhelmed in all her life, she wasn't sure what to do. So, she reached out and wrapped her arms around Dick's neck, pulling him against her in a tight hug.

"Thank you." She murmured, her breath tickling his ear. Dick floundered for a moment before he finally regained control and put his arms around her waist. He chuckled, and she felt the vibrations coming from his chest.

"It wasn't just me, you know." He said playfully, and Charlotte nodded, closing her eyes as she squeezed him tighter.

"I know." She whispered. "Just... Thank you." And that was when he realised she wasn't just talking about the flowers. She was thanking him for everything, as if she were already leaving. This was the first time, he suddenly thought, that they had ever hugged. It was bitter-sweet, but he would never forget the warmth of her body, or the smell of her hair, or the feeling of her clutching him just as tightly as he held her. After another few moments, Charlotte uncoiled herself from around him and quickly brushed away her tears with the back of her hand. Dick gave a huff of laughter and nodded over his shoulder to the door.

"C'mon, let's go dancing." He said, and Charlotte nodded, her bright smile back in place.

They talked animatedly as they made their way across the lot to the room Ernie had told him about. There were a number of studios in the building, mostly for music or artists, so it was rare that they be used for photography or filming. That sort of thing usually took place at the studios across the lot, built specifically for the large cameras and even larger sets. But today, Ernie had booked one of the smaller rooms to quickly film the live action reference they so sorely needed. They would usually have a lot more equipment and people on hand for this sort of thing, but this would only take a few minutes and it wasn't for a specific movie, so there was no need for extra props or detail. He just needed them to dance.

As soon as they entered the studio, Ernie was there to greet them. He bounded up to them like an excitable puppy and shook each of their hands vigorously.

"Hey, you guys. I can't tell you how grateful I am for this." He told them both, turning his wrinkled old face from Dick to Charlie. The pair shrugged and smiled back modestly.

"It's no problem at all." Dick assured him kindly. Charlotte nodded,

"We should be thanking you, Mr. Meade." She added. The old man raised a finger and wagged it at Charlotte playfully.

"Now, c'mon, Mr. Meade is an English teacher. Just call me Ernie, please." Charlie chuckled but promised to do so all the same. She didn't think she'd ever get used to the informalities there. "And Charlotte, I'm so glad you're feeling better." Ernie told her kindly. She grinned.

"So am I." She replied, making the director laugh. He turned on the spot and waved at two figures who were chatting at the other end of the studio. They quickly ran over, a young man and woman, with matching bright, white smiles.

"Dick, you're gonna go with Tony." Ernie told him, gesturing to the tall, gleaming man. "Charlotte, Ginger's gonna help you out." He finished, referring to Tony's female counterpart. Charlie didn't even have a moment to say goodbye to Dick before she was being whisked away by the effervescent young woman. She ushered her into a little side room, which had been quickly transformed into a changing room. Ginger, so named, Charlotte decided, due to the fire-red curls that bounced around her shoulders, immediately began to help Charlotte out of her dress and into the one she would be wearing for the filming.

"So, you're from London! Tell me everything."

A few minutes later, after Charlie had decided she liked the cheery girl who had helped her into her dress, she was guided back into the studio where her dance partner was already there to meet her.

"Wow, look at you!" She cried as Dick sulkily met her in the centre of the room. He snorted as he tugged uncomfortably at the tunic he had been forced to wear.

"I look dumb, I know." He grumbled, not quite meeting her eyes. He thought perhaps if he looked at her, his whole face might turn red, and that coupled with the ridiculous outfit meant an unnecessary amount of embarrassment. Charlotte pouted her lips pensively as she looked the musician up and down.

"Actually," She said, "I think you look rather dashing." She wasn't lying, he did look every bit the charming prince. Dick finally met her eyes, his face all screwed up with suspicion.

"You're just pulling my leg." He said bitterly as he returned his attention to trying to smooth down the front of his ridiculous shirt. Charlotte chuckled a little and shrugged her shoulders.

"It  _is_  quite a silly hat." She admitted, eyeing the plumed cap with great amusement. Dick had to laugh then. Since they had started talking, he had felt increasingly less self-conscious about the garish costume Tony had forced him into. It also helped that Charlotte too was dressed up. Although he couldn't help but notice that her costume was considerably less conspicuous than his. She wore a simple blue dress with long sleeves and a flowing skirt, and a small metal crown sat on top of her head. She looked very much like a princess on a budget. He gestured to the outfit, wafting his hand up and down, then returned to the cuffs of his sleeves.

"Well, you look..." He trailed off, not quite knowing what to say and not wanting to voice what was actually going through his mind.  _Wonderful, radiant, simply beautiful_. He tried to make it look like his loss for words was caused by the distraction of his noncompliant cuffs.

"A little silly too?" Charlotte wryly finished for him as she reached out and took his sleeve in her hands, quickly straightening and buttoning the offending cuff with nimble fingers. Richard watched her now that she was focused on something else and she couldn't see his face.

"You look amazing." He told her, his voice coming out a lot softer than he had meant it. Charlotte paused and flicked her warm hazel eyes up to him, her lip caught between her teeth, either from concentration or from habit, he couldn't be sure. Her capable fingers were still, but their tips rested just above his wrist, their touch cool on his skin. Slowly, she began to smile and looked to be about to say something when a voice interrupted her.

"You all set?" Richard glanced over his shoulder to where Ernie was sat in the corner, a drawing pad on his knees, a camera set up next to him. He felt Charlotte's fingers begin to move again and then they were gone. He looked back and realised she had finished with his cuff so he sent the director a thumbs up. "Good. Good." Ernie shuffled through his papers and made sure that the camera was on and positioned correctly before he settled himself back in his chair. "So, all I need you to do," He pulled his pencil out from where it had been comically tucked behind his ear. "Is dance." Charlotte looked up at Richard, a bright smile on her face, her hands on her hips. Richard nodded at her then Ernie, his own smile growing.

"We can do that." He said. Ernie gestured for them to get in position and the couple moved further into the centre of the room.

"Only if you promise not to step on my toes." Charlotte murmured to him, a grin starting to tug at the corners of her mouth. Dick chuckled as he took her right hand in his left.

"I don't make promises I can't keep." He told her as she stepped closer, allowing him to place his other hand on her waist. He hoped she couldn't feel him shaking. Charlotte waggled her head, considering his words.

"Well, at least that's something." She said, and Richard laughed. Ernie raised his hand, giving them the 'go' signal, and they began to dance. It was a simple waltz, just like they had done in the rehearsal room. Anything else might've been too complicated to draw, which they were glad of with their limited finesse and constant giggling. They stepped backwards and forwards, moving rhythmically to and fro as they had done the other day.

"Beautiful. Perfect." Ernie called to them, making Charlotte smile. It felt nice, dancing with Richard. He was certainly good at it. He was in control, guiding her fluidly across the space, but she wasn't being dragged anywhere. He looked down at her with such an earnest and open expression that she couldn't help but beam back up at him. They span around in circles, the sudden change of pace almost making her dizzy, but she remembered to move her hips so that her dress flowed around her as they span, just like Ginger had told her. "Okay, now I need you to spin her out, Dick." Richard dutifully followed Ernie's directions and made sure Charlie was ready before extending his arm. His partner easily span under it, her hand still clasping his. "Perfect, and back in." Charlotte effortlessly stepped back in time with Dick, his hand immediately finding her waist again with no fumbling. They were, after all, being filmed. They had to get this as perfect as possible. "Spot on." Ernie praised from across the room. "Now draw her in close." Richard didn't even think about the connotations of their director's words as he gently pulled Charlotte against him. "And now kiss." They both started, freezing in surprise, so that their wonderfully timed dance ended with stumbling feet and squashed arms. Charlotte withdrew from Richard, turning her wide eyes to the artist in the corner.

"What?" She cried. She must have misheard him, but Dick looked just as surprised as she did. Ernie frowned back at her, his bushy eyebrows drawing together so that she could only just see his eyes under them.

"Is there a problem?" He asked, looking between Dick and Charlie worriedly. Charlotte quickly shook her head, not wanting to get in the way of his work.

"No, no problem." She said, but her anxiously knotted fingers gave her away. She glanced at Dick before continuing. "It's just you didn't mention anything about..." She bit her lip and looked awkwardly down at her feet, very much wanting the ground to open up and swallow her. Dick stepped closer and moved to touch her, but somehow he found the gesture inappropriate. He let his fingers brush her elbow as a compromise before he spoke.

"It's okay. We don't have to-"

"No, it's fine." The woman stopped him, meeting his eyes determinedly. What perfect timing they had. After their heart-breaking conversation, on today of all days, it was necessary that they kiss. Charlie was sure that someone, somewhere had it in for her. But how was she ever going to prove to herself and to Dick that they could go on as usual if she backed away from this? It would imply that she thought of them as something other than platonic, that it meant something to her. No, she had to do this. From his corner of the room, Ernie watched the pair speculatively, tapping the end of his pencil against his chin. "Okay, then." He said, telling his actors to get into their positions. He heard the door click gently shut behind him and looked around to see Disney carefully walking to stand by him. "Walt." He greeted quietly. Ernie kept his voice down because he knew that Walt liked to watch but not interrupt. It wasn't uncommon for their boss to pop in on days like this. He was attentive like that. He always liked to see what his employees were up to, wanting to be a part of the magic they were making. Ernie turned back to the pair in the centre of the room, who strangely hadn't noticed Disney coming in. "Okay, let's go from the spin out." He suggested loudly so that they could hear him. They quickly got into position, although noticeably more hesitantly this time, their minds very much on what was to come. "Very good, very good." Ernie praised as they danced fluidly, just as they had done before. Walt smiled as he watched his musician and his artist dance, still unaware of his presence. "Now loving gaze, loving gaze and kiss." Charlotte did her best to 'gaze lovingly' up at Dick without turning bright red, and he was doing much the same. Then they drew closer, their eyes sliding shut, and kissed.

Ernie nodded approvingly, knowing that the footage would work well in future pictures. They had meant it to be chaste and simple, no more than what you would usually find at the end of one of Walt Disney's greatest films, but as Richard pulled away, he found he was unable to move back any further. Charlotte, likewise, found her body would not comply with her mind's orders. They were so close, their foreheads touched, their noses brushed. They were both breathing hard, their eyes still closed. Neither Walt nor Ernie noticed this as they talked about the shot and how it could be used, and they certainly didn't notice when the pair went back for a second kiss, this one much less innocent than the first. It was slow at first, their lips brushing unsurely, but then it grew heated. Their mouths moved quicker, more urgently. Dick moved his other hand to her waist and Charlotte pushed closer against him. It wasn't until she noticed that she had Richard's bottom lip between her teeth that she realised what they were doing. She immediately pulled away, her eyes wide and fearful. Her hands flew to her mouth, her lips still numb and tingling from the force of their kiss.

"I'm... Gosh, I'm so terribly sorry, I don't know what, er, I, um..." She babbled incoherently, trying to look anywhere but at him. Dick for the most part, looked a little dazed, not quite sure what had just happened. Charlotte was panicking. Oh, God, that was it. They'd ruined it. It would be so awkward now. Whenever she saw him, all she would think about was that kiss.

"Well, that was unexpected." Dick was pretty sure he saw the colour drain from Charlie's face as she realised who the voice belonged to. They both turned to see Walt standing next to a very uncomfortable looking Ernie, a bemused look on his face.

"Mr. Disney!" Charlotte croaked. Oh. Oh, this was so very mortifying. Walt raised his eyebrows at the pair, a sly grin sliding onto his lips.

"You know that this' a children's picture, don't you?" He joked. Charlotte thought she might die from embarrassment. Without looking at any of the men, she quickly hurried towards the door and was gone in a swish of blue fabric. Dick watched her leave, something akin to guilt clouding his expression. He nodded to Ernie and Walt before jogging to catch up with his friend. Disney turned to the older man, still sitting stunned in his chair. "Kids." He muttered with a good-natured roll of his eyes.

* * *

Dick hoped that running after Charlie through endless hallways wasn't going to become a regular thing because he really didn't have the stamina for it. Still wearing his ridiculous outfit and damned hat, he got a few curious stares as he tried to find his friend. After a minute or two, he found her. Her head was in her hands, her back against the wall. Dick took a tentative step forward, not sure whether he should approach her or not.

"Charlie?" He murmured, and the woman looked around sharply. She shook her head and pushed herself off the wall.

"I'm so sorry, I don't know what happened." She babbled, her hands pressed to her cheeks. Dick was surprised at how upset she was. Why was she apologising?

"No, I'm sorry, it was just a- A  _thing_. I don't know, but-"

"Please don't be angry with me."

"Please don't be angry with  _me_." They paused, and Charlotte opened and closed her mouth a few times. Eventually she sighed and covered her eyes with one hand.

"Could you not look at me, please?" She said dejectedly. Dick raised his eyebrows, not sure if he'd heard her correctly.

"Could I..?" He repeated, making Charlotte sighed.

"Could you just turn around, please?" She asked, twisting her hand to demonstrate. Dick wasn't sure what that would achieve, but if it helped.

"Okay." He turned on the spot so that he was looking down the other end of the corridor. They were silent again for the longest time before he couldn't hold back any longer. "So..."

"That happened."

"Yep." He heard her sigh again. Was she embarrassed? Disgusted? Or perhaps she was just as confused as he was. Kissing her, it had been amazing. How long had he thought about just grabbing her and kissing her in the middle of a rehearsal, damn the consequences? But this was different, and they had certainly never, in all the scenarios he'd pictured, ended up like this. The silly costumes were an added bonus.

"Are you..." She stammered. "I don't, um..."

"Yeah." Charlotte had never felt so awful. She was leaving. She was leaving very soon and she would never see him again. Why had they done that? It would make it a hundred times harder to go. And now... Now things were going to be weird. Not only had she done what she'd promised herself she would never do, but she'd lost one of her best friends in the process. In front of her boss. On camera. It was all just too much. Dick started when he heard her give a loud sob, and he immediately flew to her side, whether she wanted him to or not. "Hey, what's wrong?" She shook her head miserably and looked down at the floor.

"I don't want things to be different between us." She croaked, giving a loud, unattractive sniff. Dick let out a long sigh and held her shoulders in his hands, his thumbs brushing back and forth soothingly.

"They won't be." He promised. When she didn't reply, he smiled sadly and chucked her under the chin so that she was looking up at him. "C'mon, it's not worth crying over." He told her, although he felt pretty close to tears himself. It had been one hell of a day. "Nothing could make me not want to see you every day." He murmured, and Charlotte's heart soared up into her throat. How dare he look at her like that? It almost made her want to kiss him again. Dick looked uncertain for a moment, like he wanted to say something, but he changed his mind at the last second. "Let's just forget about it, okay?" He said eventually, dropping his gaze slightly. Charlie knew that wasn't what he'd wanted to say, and it definitely wasn't what she wanted him to say. She nodded slowly, and tucked a stray curl of hair behind her ear.

"Okay." She repeated. Dick stood still for a moment, just chewing his bottom lip in deep thought. Then he looked up at her and squeezed her shoulder encouragingly. He gave her a quick smile that didn't quite meet his eyes then nodded back down the corridor.

"C'mon, let's go get changed."

Don looked up when he heard the music room door open and grinned when he saw his friends.

"Hey!" He called cheerfully. Dick and Charlotte both beamed back at him as they walked into the room.

"Hey!" They replied. Dick walked over to his brother at the piano but Charlie stayed by the door.

"How was it?" Bob asked curiously. Dick chuckled and looked over at Charlie.

"Good, good, yeah." He said happily, and the woman nodded her agreement. Neither of the men noticed the stiffness that had crept in-between Richard and Charlie, or the fact that they didn't quite meet each other's eyes. Charlotte smiled at Don and gestured over her shoulder.

"I'm going back to my office, I've got work to catch up on." She said, and it surprised them that she was leaving so soon. Usually, Charlotte would do anything to sit with them, only working alone if she absolutely had to. It was strange that she would so readily isolate herself, especially since she'd been absent for two days. "It's lovely to see you both." She said warmly. "Thank you so much for my wonderful gifts. I shall never go hungry again, Bob." The older Sherman looked embarrassed.

"That's what I was thinking when I bought them." He said lamely, making Charlie giggle. She raised her hand and waved goodbye.

"I'll see you all later." She said sweetly, before she turned and walked away. But just before she went out of the door, she turned her head ever so slightly and caught Dick's eye. The musician gave her a weak smile that she returned fleetingly, then she was gone. As soon as the door clicked shut, Don and Bob turned on their friend.

"So, how was dancing with the lovely Charlotte?" The writer teased, wriggling his eyebrows. Dick shook his head and laughed at the looks on their faces. Since he'd told them about Ernie's proposal, he had been teased relentlessly. He deeply regretted confiding in his brother and Don about his feelings for Charlotte, especially because they would almost let it slip whenever they spoke to her. But one thing he hadn't really talked to them about was the news. Sure, he'd told them about Charlotte's departure and warned them of how soon it really was, but he couldn't bring himself to voice the turmoil of thoughts and feelings that clung to the inside of his chest like thick tar. Although, he was sure that on some level, they could anticipate his reaction pretty well.

"Fantastic." He shook his head in wonderment, finding he wasn't able to suppress his grin. "Absolutely wonderful. Especially..." Fortunately, he stopped himself before he went any further. Don and Bob both looked at him expectantly but he shut his open mouth like a trap. "Never mind." He added quickly, dropping his gaze to the sheet music in front of him.

"What?" Bob frowned. Dick shrugged, pretending to read the music on the stand. He and Bob were very close, and he knew that his brother would easily read his mind if he looked him in the eye.

"No, it's fine. It doesn't matter." He insisted. Charlotte thought that the kiss would drive a wedge between them. She thought it meant that things would be different, and that her departure would be even harder. To Richard, it was the opportunity he'd been praying for. With the taste of her still on his lips, he knew that there was no way that he would ever be able to let her go. That kiss, it was their safety net. He could still feel her body against his, feel her warmth still ghosting his skin. They'd made the leap, crossed a line that couldn't be redrawn. Richard felt lighter than air, and his smile said it all.

"Okay." Said Don, ready to change the subject if Dick was stubbornly going to brush off their questions. "Wanna do 'Love to Laugh'?"

"Sure."


	10. Chapter 10

Knocking on Charlotte's door was difficult for two reasons. One: Dick was incredibly nervous. After yesterday, he wasn't sure where they stood. He'd promised that they would forget about it, but how could he? She was on his mind around the clock, but now it was so much worse. He could still feel her in his arms, feel the force behind her kiss. Richard had never felt anything like it, and it was very possible that he would never feel anything like it again. That was, of course, until he kissed her again. He had no plans to- no more than he usually did- but surely it was impossible to kiss someone like that and then disregard ones feelings? At least he hoped it was. He still didn't know why she was leaving, not really. That was another thing he desperately wanted to ask, but he felt like he couldn't. Dick didn't want to upset her any further, the odds were that her departure was going to hurt her more than it was going to hurt him, but still, he needed to know. The second reason why it was difficult to knock on Charlotte's door was a lot less complex than the first. He had a glass bottle of Coca-Cola in each hand, and he didn't want to spill any. After a few minutes of fumbling, he managed to tuck one bottle under his arm and tapped on the door.

"Come in." He heard her faint call and he did as he was told. Charlotte looked up as the door opened, and her face lit up when she saw him. "Richard!" She said brightly, giving him a wide grin. Dick smiled back and shut the door behind him. She was dressed differently today. Instead of her usual dress, she wore a silk shirt tucked into a blue houndstooth skirt. She looked beautiful as always, but any eye contact was short lived, as she turned back to her drawing after her salutation. Apparently, she still felt as if she was falling behind in her work, but there was no need to feel that way. She had plenty of time, and no one was putting pressure on her to finish. He supposed Charlotte knew that too, and he also supposed that she didn't care.

"Here, I brought you something to drink." He told her, proudly placing what he'd snaffled on her desk. He saw Charlotte smile gratefully but she didn't look up, her clever eyes trained on her drawing. Dick used the opportunity to take a look around her office. He'd been in there a few times, but he'd never had a proper snoop. Whilst Charlie was distracted by her artwork, he peered at a long shelf of coloured jars, which held numerous amounts of paintbrushes and pens and charcoals. Then he moved onto the enormous cork board that almost completely took up one wall. Pinned to it were possibly thousands of drawings in an array of colours. Most were drafts of the final sketches he had seen her pass on to the animators, but some weren't related to 'Mary Poppins' at all. He spotted a bright red flower with curling leaves in one corner of the board, then the view from her window in another. Next to a wonderful rough sketch of the Banks' house was an oak tree drawn in minute detail. "Sure is stuffy in here. You should open a window." He voiced, trying to engage her in conversation and distract her from her work, but only for a moment.

"Yes, I keep forgetting to." Came Charlotte's murmured reply, her eyes still fixed on the pencil drawing in front of her. Dick turned his head to look at her and smiled fondly when he saw that her nose was inches away from the paper. No wonder she always ended up with smudges all over her face and hands. He shook his head and walked to the window. He looked out at the view for a moment before he asked,

"Mind if I..?" Charlotte finally looked up to see what he was referring to and nodded.

"Go ahead." She said, smiling gratefully at him. Dick eagerly opened the window, desperate to get some fresh air into the room. It was a miracle she didn't pass out in there. It was so hot, he thought he might bake inside his clothes. Immediately, a rush of cool air swept through the open window, fluttering the pieces of paper that engulfed her office. A few slid off the counters, but Charlotte didn't seem to mind, so long as the piece she was working on didn't go missing. Out in the distance, Dick could see the road stretching off into the distance, the road that could take them back to the hillside where they'd run away together. He wondered if Charlie still thought about that day, if she treasured it just as much as he did. Probably not, but he could hope. "Oh, I've been meaning to try one of these." Dick turned around at Charlie's gasp and was surprised to see it was his gift that she was so excited about. He frowned,

"You've never had a Coca-Cola before?" He asked incredulously. Charlie was clutching the glass bottle with both hands as if it were a priceless artefact.

"My mother never let me. Her xenophobia is quite startling." She murmured as she turned the drink over in her hands, studying it intently. Dick let out a laugh as he heaved himself up onto the windowsill, his legs swinging childishly once he got himself comfortable. Charlotte twisted her red lips deviously. "But I suppose, while I'm here, she can't possibly know that I've tried one." She looked across at Dick and he sent her a supportive nod, more than happy to be involved in her little act of rebellion. "What does it taste like?" Charlotte smiled when his brow creased and he wrinkled his nose adorably.

"I dunno." He realised. "It doesn't taste like anything else, it's got its own flavour." He nodded encouragingly. "Try it." Charlie held his gaze for a moment, her mouth all skewed up with an uncertain smile, but then she raised the bottle to her lips and took a long, bold swig. Dick suddenly realised that he probably should've warned her about the bubbles, but it was too late. Charlotte's hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide. Then she let out a loud laugh.

"Oh, my gosh!" She gushed, feeling the fizzy drink whoosh through her, most of the bubbles ending up in her nose. "That's fantastic!" Dick chuckled at her childish excitement.

"You see?"

"I've never had anything like this before." She murmured, staring at the bottle again before taking another drink. The ice cold liquid cooled her instantly and she found she was quite short of breath. "How marvellous." She murmured, feeling the bubbles boil in her stomach.

"Welcome to a whole new world, rebellious Charlotte." Dick said, reaching over and clinking his bottle against hers.

"Cheers." She said in return, then she turned back to her drawing. Dick watched her for a while, he enjoyed studying the way she moved, how her eyes darted over the paper in front of her and the way she smiled to herself. But then a thought struck him, something he didn't want to ask, but he felt he had to. "Charlie?"

"Hm?" Came her distracted reply. Dick pressed his lips together nervously before he finally found the courage to ask,

"Why do you  _have_  to leave?" Charlotte sighed and dropped her pencil.

"Richard..." She began exasperatedly, turning in her chair to look at him. His head was bowed, his gaze captured by the bottle in his hands which he was toying with anxiously. She really didn't want to have this conversation, especially when they'd promised they wouldn't, but Dick wouldn't let her leave without an explanation. If he was going to lose her, he wanted to know why.

"Please, Charlotte." He implored, finally looking up at her again. Charlie felt her heart thud against her ribcage. She wasn't sure why, but whenever he used her full name, she had to fight to remember to breathe. Perhaps it was because it happened so rarely, usually only when he was sad, or angry, or serious, like he was right then. Either way, she liked it, even if it usually came with bad tidings. Although, she liked Charlie a lot more. Dick wouldn't stop looking at her with those big sad eyes. She sighed again, raising a hand and running it through her hair.

"Well, aside from contractual reasons..." She began, giving in to his wishes, but then her tongue turned to lead and she found it hard to continue. She hadn't told him about her mother yet. She'd never wanted to, really she'd never thought she would have to, but there was no way around it now. Dick frowned when she remained silent, her eyes glued to the floor by his feet.

"What is it?" He asked quietly. Perhaps he shouldn't have asked. In his sadness, he hadn't stopped to realise that if Charlie had to do this, there was definitely a good reason for it. Now her expression was blank, her jaw set. He'd never seen her look that way before. Her eyes slowly rose to meet his, but he could tell she wasn't really looking at him.

"My mother." She said quietly, a strange edge to her voice. "She's very ill." A hundred curses swarmed in Dick's mind, though fortunately, he was quick enough to not let any of them fly out of his mouth. He should've listened to his own advice, he shouldn't have asked her. She was his best friend, and he was the reason she looked so sad. She watched his determined expression melt into surprise then guilt.

"Oh, God, Charlie." He murmured, sliding off the windowsill to stand beside her. "I'm so sorry." Charlotte shook her head, looking away again.

"No, don't be."

"I shouldn't have pushed-"

"Richard, it's alright." She interrupted firmly. Dick's mouth shut with a snap that made her smile ever so slightly. She leaned her elbow on the table and rested her head against her open palm. "I just, I'm... She's not got long left, you see." She told him. Dick let out a long sigh as he crouched down beside her, placing one hand flat on her desk to keeping himself steady. She twisted her mouth uncertainly, her eyes slowly travelling over the back of his hand as she spoke. "She's happy, she smiles all the time and tell jokes and, you know, she's still my mother." She murmured, her hazel eyes still not meeting his, her mouth turning down at the corners. "But sometimes..." Dick watched sadly as she sighed and rubbed her eyes wearily. "Sometimes she forgets things..." Her voice cracked, and she gritted her teeth. "It's hard to lose your father and your mother. After she goes, I suppose I'll be all alone." Alright, that was enough for now. She could feel her face starting to grow hot and she knew she would start to cry soon if she didn't change the subject. So she picked up her pencil again and continued with her drawing. Dick watched her add minute detail to a spectacular rendition of the London skyline, and mulled over her words in his head.

"I'll never let that happen." He told her after a moment, his voice soft, but edged with a determination that made Charlotte look up again. They locked eyes and neither said anything for the longest time before Charlie eventually smiled.

"Shouldn't you be working?" She teased softly. Dick grinned, snapping back to his carefree, charming self again in an instant.

"We're taking a break." He defended himself as he walked to the door. Charlotte raised an eyebrow, glad that they could still joke and laugh despite the severity of their conversation and the awkwardness of yesterday.

"So you've come to annoy me?" She scoffed. Dick wheeled around and gasped dramatically.

"Oh, you wound me, Miss. Charlotte." He wailed, his hand flying to his chest with such theatricality, Charlie snorted with laughter. Pleased that he'd managed to cheer her up, Dick pulled open the door and nodded out into the hallway with an enticing smirk. "Hey, wanna take a walk?" He suggested. Charlotte wondered if she would ever be able to resist that look as she put down her pencil and grabbed her handbag.

"I'd love to." She replied, smiling sweetly at him as he opened the door fully for her. It was a shame to be stuck inside all day when the sun was shining so beautifully, and it was far too hot to be cooped up in a small office like Charlie's. Dick also needed to talk to her, and after the tension that had developed between them, he thought it would be a good idea to do it out in the fresh air. They walked side by side out into the lot then took a left so that they were walking towards the garden-like area outside of Charlie's office. As they drew closer to the little patch of green, Dick cleared his throat, earning her attention.

"Now, gorgeous, you're leaving in a few weeks." He began, pleased at the colour that rose in her cheeks when she heard his term of endearment. He hadn't been sure whether she'd like little nicknames like that, but apparently she did, much to his surprise and delight. "And that's okay, because you need to go." He added, trying to reassure her that he fully supported her plan. "But I've been thinking..."

"Uh oh." Charlotte grumbled, then laughed when Dick lightly elbowed her ribs. "What's the point of being sad about it?" He said as they reached the little green alcove, which was also home to a tall, lithe tree. "We should be happy now because we're going to be sad later. You see what I'm saying?" Charlotte hummed thoughtfully as she turned around and leaned her back up against the tree, grateful of the shade it provided.

"You're saying we should try and be happy while we can because soon it's going to be difficult?" She guessed, trying to put his mixed up sentence into straightforward terms. Dick grinned back at her.

"See, what would I do without ya?" He sat down on the grass and crossed his legs, looking up at her expectantly. "Okay, so the plan is, Charlotte Johnson-Liddle, that we are not going to forget about your impending embarkation from this beautiful, incredible, joyous place with its vibrant and loving people-"

"Richard." She warned him playfully as she took up his silent offer and sat down beside him on the grass. Richard apologised, but he didn't look sorry in the slightest.

"We're not going to forget about it," He continued. "But we're not going to let it ruin things."

"What things?" Charlotte asked curiously. Dick had meant their relationship, platonic or otherwise, but he didn't think that would be appropriate, so he shrugged and said,

"The rest of your time here, the memories you've made, the people you've come to adore..." He playfully nudged her shoulder with his and she swatted him away, laughing at his antics. "Sound like a plan?" He finished, looking quite proud of himself. Charlotte was thrilled that they could get over the kissing incident and get along just as well as they always did.

"I thinks it's an excellent idea." She told him sincerely, looking up at him with that half-smile that could make a man forget his own name.

"Good, so do I." He replied, his gaze quickly flicking down to her lips, only for a second, before he turned his head to look out at the small square view they had. "You look beautiful today, by the way." He told her after a moment. Now he was really pushing his luck. Charlotte smirked and mirrored his position, leaning back on her hands and looking out at the people that passed them by.

"I'm aware." She replied coolly, just as she always did to his compliments. Dick chuckled a little.

"Aware that you're beautiful? Or aware that I think you're beautiful?"

"Both." She shot back. "You do tell me at least once a day." Dick chuckled.

"Maybe I love telling you how beautiful you are just as much as I love seeing it." Charlotte shook her head, not feeling brave enough to look him in the eye.

"It's things like that that make it hard to leave, Mr. Sherman." She told him, not really meaning to sound as sad as she did. Dick nodded once firmly.

"Good. I'll keep doing it then." He turned his head to look at her and she did the same, a scolding look on her face. But then she couldn't hold back any longer and she let out a loud laugh.

"Thank you, all the same." She said finally, and Dick let out a long contented sigh. Again, his thoughts turned to the time when they had ditched their work for that hill just outside of the city, just the two of them and the view. That had been one of the happiest days of his life, made all the sweeter by the fact that almost a month has passed since then, and they were still by each other's sides with nothing but the other on their minds. They sat there for a little less than an hour before the realised they didn't have that much time left. That was when Dick had an idea.

"Wanna get an ice cream before we go back?" He suggested. Charlotte was just opening her mouth to agree when Dick raised his eyebrows. "You have  _tried_  ice cream, haven't you?" He teased. Charlotte rolled her eyes. He was never going to let it go, was he? She got up and brushed herself off, then reached out a hand to him.

"Come on." She grumbled, helping him to his own feet when he accepted her offered hand. Dick led her over to a little food stand further into the lot, a place she hadn't yet explored. There were quite a few people milling about, all on their lunch break, and they waved to the few people they recognised on their way to get their food. With their ice creams (Dick had chocolate and Charlotte chose strawberry) they walked side by side back towards their respective workrooms. As they neared the main block, Dick found he simply couldn't hold back any longer. What had happened had turned his whole world upside down, and he couldn't just let it be forgotten.

"And, hey, listen about yesterday..." He began awkwardly. Charlotte looked round at him, mid-lick of her ice cream, and pulled a face.

"You mean the..." She trailed off, not wanting to actually put it into words for fear of turning bright red again.

"Yeah, um..." Dick stopped just before they went up the steps, surprising Charlotte with his impromptu solemnity. She stood in front of him, perhaps a little closer than she should have, what with recent events and how easily charmed she was by the man before her. "I know we said we'd forget about it, but I've been thinking and-" He couldn't quite meet her eyes, all his courage suddenly leaving as fast as it had appeared. "You should know that..." Charlotte stepped ever so slightly closer, her eyebrows knitting together with concern.

"What is it?" She asked him softly. He wanted to tell her, he  _needed_  to tell her. If she left without knowing how he felt, he didn't know what he would do. All Dick could think of was her, and how she was standing so close to him, he could reach out and kiss her again. Any repercussions his words might have on Charlie and her decision to leave had dissipated. With his heart in his mouth, he held her gaze.

"Charlie, I-"

"Dick!" The musician looked up at the sound of his name being shouted. Over Charlotte's head, at the top of the steps they were about to climb, stood Don. His eyes were wide behind his glasses, and his hands were raised above his head.

"Don?" Dick frowned up at his friend, confused as to why he'd felt the need to holler at him for the whole studios to hear. "Hi?" Charlotte too turned around to look at the writer, who was running down the steps to meet them.

"Hey, Dick. Hey, Charlie." He greeted rapidly, leaving no space for them to reply. "You guys got ice cream? That's great! Can I talk to you for a sec?" That was directed at Dick in particular, who didn't have time to give his answer before Don had grabbed his arm and was pulling him off down the lot. Charlotte frowned at the pair of them, still blissfully unaware of what Richard had been about to tell her, and confused at why Don had dragged him off so quickly.

"Bye." She called lamely after the pair, before turning and walking back indoors. Don, with his vicelike grip on Dick's arm, tugged the musician across the lot and away from Charlie. He finally stopped, after many protestations from Dick and a few curious looks from their co-workers, and brought him to a gap between two buildings. He dropped the musician's arm and Dick rubbed the spot where he'd pulled him roughly.

"What are you doing?" Don hissed, once he'd made sure they were out earshot from Charlotte and anyone else who happened to be walking by. Dick stopped trying to get the circulation going again in his arm to stare at the writer.

"What am I doing?" He cried. Don had just interrupted their conversation, dragged him across a crowded studio lot, cornered him in an alleyway, and he was the one getting yelled at?

"You were gonna tell her." Said Don furiously. Dick's mouth fell open, but he couldn't argue against Don's accusation.

"Maybe. I don't know." He mumbled eventually, returning his attention to his most likely bruised arm. "I wasn't sure, but I was definitely getting somewhere."

"For God's sake, Dick." Don gave a frustrated cry and hit Dick's shoulder, not hard, but enough to surprise the musician.

"Woah, hey!" Dick cried, as he almost dropped the ice cream he had somehow managed to cling on to during the manhandling. Don sighed and waved his hands above his head again.

"What are you thinking?"

"You almost made me drop my ice cream cone!"

"You can't tell her."

"It's from that nice place. It cost, like, three dollars, man."

"Dick Sherman!" Don cried in frustration. Richard glanced sideways and saw a few people turn their heads to look their way as they went past. Don's hiding place hadn't been as secret as he had hoped, and if he shouted any louder, someone would probably call security, but no one wanted to call grumpy, old Doug to interrupt his lunch break, so he had that in his favour.

"C'mon, would it be so bad if I told her?" He protested, taking a cavalier lick of his ice cream as he did so. Don nodded his head desperately.

"It would be  _very_  bad!" He replied, the pitch of his voice rising in exasperation. "She's leaving, and telling her would stop her." Dick raised his eyebrows.

"You think?" He asked hopefully. Don tilted his head to one side with irritation and Richard sighed. "I know, I know, I shouldn't but..." He wiped a hand over his face, then smoothed it back over his hair as he always did when he was nervous. "If she leaves without knowing and I never see her again..." He stopped, not wanting to think about how that would feel. The sympathetic look on Don's face let him know he understood where he was coming from, which helped a little. Oh, thank God for Don DaGradi. He had saved him. If he'd told Charlie, she wouldn't have left. Or if she had, it would have felt even worse. He couldn't do that to her. He sighed again and leaned his back up against the wall behind him, all the fight and confidence leaving him. "Her mom's sick. That's why she's going home." He told Don quietly. The writer looked shocked, then his expression melted into worry. He reached out and gripped Richard's shoulder.

"Then she needs a friend." He told him firmly. Dick nodded, his eyes glued to the ground.

"Gotcha." He murmured. He was right, of course he was, but he still felt terrible. Whatever it was that had been building between him and Charlotte would be gone in one fell swoop. It felt like all the future they might have had together had been stolen from them, and so quickly as well, but Don had hit the nail on the head. Charlie needed a friend, not someone to confess their undying admirations for her just as she was leaving the country. He'd just have to suck it up and deal with it. Don saw that his friend agreed with him, whether he liked it or not, so he patted his shoulder and stepped back.

"C'mon, Mrs. T will be back soon and we've still got to figure out a way to explain 'Love to Laugh'." He jibed, trying to add a little humour to the situation. Dick did laugh, starting to feel better about the whole thing. Charlotte needed him to support her, to make this easier for her, and that was what he was going to do.

* * *

Charlotte herself, as of that moment, was walking down the corridor to her office. Still licking her ice cream, she opened her office, and almost jumped out of her skin.

"Mrs. Travers!" She cried, her free hand flying to her heart. The author was sitting at her desk, a book in her hands. She slowly turned her sharp gaze to Charlotte, her eyes slightly obscured by her horn-rimmed glasses. Charlotte let out a long, shaky breath. "You frightened the life out of me." She told her, but Mrs. Travers didn't seem that interested.

"Hm, your office looks a great deal messier than when I last visited." She muttered, turning back to the book in her hands. Charlotte opened and closed her mouth a few times, not sure how to respond to such an abrupt comment.

"I've been absent for a few days and in my rush to keep up with work, things have gotten a little chaotic." She said slowly, taking off her cardigan and hanging it up on the hook on the back of the door. She took a tentative step forward, not really sure what to do with herself. "Can I help you, Mrs. Travers?" She asked eventually. Pamela sighed and closed the book she was reading with a snap.

"I shouldn't think so." She said wearily, turning her gaze to look out of the window. She was quiet for a moment, and again, Charlotte wasn't sure what to do. So she stood silently, just wringing her hands, waiting for the author to speak again. When Mrs. Travers did finally begin to talk, it was in a very different tone. She no longer sounded wistful and quiet, but more like her usual business-like self. "I just wanted to wish you well on your voyage home." She told Charlie, getting up from her seat and straightening out her clothes. Charlotte looked down at her feet, chewing the inside of cheek nervously.

"News travels fast." She said quietly. Then she looked up again, forcing a smile. "But I'm not going for a while yet." Mrs. Travers sniffed and looked over her shoulder to the window again, through which they could see the old tree that Charlotte and Dick had sat under not ten minutes ago. Perhaps she had seen them together, or maybe that was just Charlie being paranoid.

"I wish I was going with you." Pamela murmured, her lips drawn into a thin line. Charlotte offered a sympathetic smile

"It's not all bad here." She said, carefully trying to defend the world she had come to love. She gestured with her head towards the window. "Look at that sunshine." She added. "You don't get many days like this in England, certainly not in the city." Mrs. Travers hummed thoughtfully.

"It was always sunny where I grew up." She murmured. Although Charlotte couldn't see her face, she could sense a peacefulness had fallen over the author at the memory of her home. She frowned, she'd assumed that Mrs. Travers had grown up in London like herself.

"Where was that?" She asked, surprised at her own courage. Mrs. Travers was obviously far more itinerant than she had previously thought possible for such an impatient woman. Pamela's glazed expression disappeared and she cleared her throat.

"I best be off." She announced, and Charlie decided her question must have been too forward for such a cryptic and enigmatic lady. "Your friends have got something new to show me." She muttered, her tone heavy with disdain, as she made her way to the door. Charlotte smiled at the way the author's lip curled at the mention of Don and the Shermans' attempts to impress her.

"I hope you enjoy it." She said candidly, taking up the seat Mrs. Travers had just vacated. The author sniffed and threw open the door.

"As do I." She replied curtly before bustling away down the corridor without a backwards glance. Charlie chuckled to herself, shaking her head at Mrs. Travers' cantankerous ways. She noticed the book that she had been reading was still lying on her desk. With a frown, she reached for the small novel and carefully turned it over in her hands. She was shocked to find it was her mother's copy of 'Mary Poppins'. What could Mrs. Travers possibly want with the battered, old book? Before she could think about it anymore, there was a light tap at her door. Charlie looked up to find Dolly, of all people, standing in the doorway with her usual cheery smile in place.

"Hey!" She greeted brightly. Charlotte still felt a little unsettled by the knowledge that Mrs. Travers knew about the book. She had kept it hidden in her room until she felt brave enough to approach the author and ask her to sign it, but so far, such a time had not arisen. She smiled back at Walt's secretary all the same.

"How typical." She said, carefully placing the book back down on her desk and pushing it away from her. "I'm always alone in here, just waiting for someone to knock on that door, and in one day, I get  _three_  visitors." She shrugged, chuckling a little at the strange situation. Dolly laughed too, and took that as an invitation to enter the room. She stayed by the door though, her hands clasped together awkwardly.

"Oh, well, I just wanted to ask you something." She told Charlotte, her expression growing slightly nervous. Charlie frowned, unsure as to why the woman had any need to be worried around her.

"What is it?" She asked kindly, gesturing for Dolly to come forward into the room. The secretary cautiously stepped forward, but stayed standing, rather than taking the seat Charlie offered her.

"Uh, well, Franny was telling me that you and Dick are a thing now, and I just wanted to make sure it was true." She checked, raising her eyebrows expectantly. Charlotte went very pale, her mouth dropping open.

"What?" She squeaked. "No, no, no, no, we're not 'a thing'!" Then she thought about it a little more before asking, "Who on Earth is Franny?" Dolly realised Charlotte still didn't know many of the people who worked there, and tried her best to clear things up for her.

"She's Ernie Meade's secretary." She explained. "She said Ginger saw you two kiss." Charlotte frowned again.

"Ginger?" She repeated, not recognising the name. Then a lightbulb flicked on above her head. "Oh!" The lovely woman who had helped her get changed the day before. She had seen the whole thing. She returned her attention to Dolly and desperately shook her head. "No, no, that was for the archive thing that we were doing."

"Yeah, but Ginger told Franny, who told me, that after the scripted kiss, you guys kissed again and it wasn't, you know, as age appropriate as the first one." Dolly replied, a hint of a smirk on her lips. She was enjoying this immensely. Charlotte, however, was not.

"Oh, God." She moaned, letting her head drop into her hands. Dolly let out a comical gasp, clapping her hands together excitedly.

"So it is true!" She gushed. When Franny had told her all about the kiss, she had denied it wholeheartedly. In her mind, there was no way that Charlotte and Dick would give in to their feelings so openly, what with Dick being quite shy really, and Charlotte being the most cool and collected woman she'd ever met. So she was beyond happy now that she knew it was true. Poor Charlotte's face was contorting into all sorts of shapes as she tried to come up with a reply that wouldn't embarrass her further.

"No! Well, yes. But I don't... Ugh." She supported her head on splayed fingers by her temple, looking up at Dolly hopelessly. "How many people know?" She asked. Dolly averted her eyes, suddenly looking very guilty. If Franny had told her, then it was very likely that she had told many, many others, as was her nature.

"Uh..." She tried to think of something to say that might comfort the artist, but Charlotte groaned, covering her face again.

"Oh, bugger." She mumbled. Dolly nodded.

"Yeah." She agreed unhelpfully. Charlie heaved a huge sigh. Any hope that they could keep The Incident quiet had well and truly been flung out of the window. She looked up at Dolly again and gave her a weak smile.

"Thank you for telling me." She said, and she meant it. It was far better to hear it from a friend, someone she trusted, than to hear whispers in the hallways. Dolly waved her off, just pleased to know that what Franny had told her had actually been true.

"No problem." She said, before leaving Charlotte alone once more. The artist ran a hand through her hair and took a deep breath. It had been an odd day, and it was only one in the afternoon. Charlotte worried her lip as she mulled over her situation. So, everyone knew, from Walt Disney himself to the company's secretaries. Oh, this was bad. She'd hoped to leave an impression on the company and its employees, but this hadn't been what she'd had in mind at all. Her attention was suddenly drawn back to the book still resting on her desk. She remembered that she had caught Mrs. Travers looking at it, but for what reason? She reached for the novel again, taking care not to be too rough with it, as it was quite old now and a little worse for wear. She studied the front cover then gingerly opened the book to its first page. Her eyes widened with surprise as she took in the sight before her. Now she knew why Mrs. Travers had been holding onto her mother's book.

On the first page, under all the copyright information, there was a brief note written in blue ink. It read:  _'To Charlotte and her mother, thank you for listening.'_  Then Mrs. Travers' surprisingly messy signature lay underneath. Charlotte let out a disbelieving laugh, pushed back her chair and jumped to her feet. Her mother had wanted to get it signed, but she'd never actually thought she would manage it. How had she known? The book was one of the first ever published, she must have seen the date and the childish scribbles Charlotte had drawn- which had gotten her into a lot of trouble- when she was little. She let out another laugh and gave a little excited jump, which she was very glad no one was around to see. She carefully placed the book on the shelf above her head and got back to work, Uncle Albert's house wasn't going to draw itself.

* * *

Dick's fingers pounded the piano keys, really giving it everything he had. Their newest song was a lot of fun, but once again, they weren't sure how Mrs. Travers would take it.

"I love to laugh! Loud and long and clear!" He sang gaudily and enthusiastically, hoping to encourage some sort of reaction from the author that wasn't a tight-lipped scowl. "I love to laugh! It's getting worse every year!" Mrs. Travers was in her usual spot, her arms folded to really drive home how unimpressed she was. Don was sat scribbling in his notepad but Bob was thankfully by his side. As it was their work being judged, they needed to stick together.

"The more I laugh, the more I fill with glee." Bob took a turn, reading the words from the music before them. "And the more the glee, the more I'm a merrier me. It's embarrassing! The more I'm a merrier me!"

"Some people laugh through their noses, sounding something like this," Dick demonstrated for the author, whose lip twitched, but whether it was from amusement or distaste, he couldn't be sure. "Some people laugh through their teeth, goodness sake. Hissing and fizzing like snakes."

"Some laugh too fast. Some only blast - Ha!" Sang Bob, who had shown an unusual amount of patience with Mrs. Travers that day. Earlier, when she had swept into the room and shooed Dolly away, his brother had remained silent like the others always chose to, and now he looked like he was starting to enjoy his job again. "Others, they twitter like birds. Then there's the kind what can't make up their mind." Dick had been worried about his brother. Since they'd started working with Mrs. Travers, things had been rocky for a while. The frustration she brought with her had meant that their work hadn't felt as fun as it usually did, but now it appeared that he'd put it behind him, or at least, that he'd gotten used to her.

"We love to laugh!" They bellowed together, and Richard saw Don look up from his script and nod his head along to the music. "Loud and long and clear. We love to laugh! So everybody can hear. The more you laugh, the more you fill with glee. And the more the glee, the more we're a merrier we!" Richard ran his fingers across the keys in a flourish of notes, ending the song with the same enthusiasm as when it began. From the excited, hopeful expression on his face as he waited for Mrs. Travers' verdict, Don almost couldn't believe that Dick had been present for their previous exhibitions. Had he learned nothing? How did he remain hopeful like that? The author let out a long, slow sigh, then raised her chin, fixing the brothers with her stony gaze.

"While the premise is ridiculous, the song is tolerable." She stated, quick and concise as ever. "What's next?" If that was all she had to say on the matter, things were looking up. Dick looked up at his brother, pouting his lips. Bob rolled his eyes at him, but he was smiling all the same.

* * *

They worked for hours and hours. Soon the bright sun that had warmed them had disappeared, the moon beginning to take its place. The clouds were drawing in, casting a shadow over the studios. Dick and Bob were still in the rehearsal room, determined to finish the song they were working on. It was a slow tune, very different to the others in the film, but it was sure to be a hit.

"Okay, one more time. I think I've got it perfect now." Richard murmured, his voice having turned hoarse from a long day's worth of singing and devising. When he got no reply, Dick looked round to see if his brother was alright. He sighed when he saw that Bob had drifted off, stretched out across the sofa near the piano. He shook his head and turned back to the keys. Maybe they were working too hard. If only that woman could see what they did. Someone needed to knock some sense into her and fast. He gently began to play again, practising the melody so that it was just right for when they played it for Walt the next day. There was a soft knock on the door, so quiet he almost didn't catch it. It wasn't until he saw a flash of movement over the top of the piano that he finally looked up. Charlotte was standing in the doorway, that familiar look of concern settling on her face.

"You're still here?" She said as she stepped into the room. Dick's eyes widened and he raised his hand as a warning, placing a finger to his lips with the other. Charlotte frowned back at him in bewilderment, but she stopped walking all the same. Richard pointed to the bench where his brother slept and Charlie followed his gesture. "Oh." She breathed. She hadn't seen Bob lying there, his figure was covered in shadows. She bit her lip and scrunched up her face apologetically. "Sorry." She whispered. Dick shrugged and gave her a sweet smile, starting to pick up the melody again.

"We were trying to finish this piece before tomorrow, but I suppose it's been a little too much for Bob." He murmured, glancing at his brother with a wry smile. Charlotte began to walk towards him, although she was a lot more mindful of her kitten heels clacking on the floor.

"You should know that the entirety of the company knows about yesterday." Dick almost fumbled the tune at her words, but thankfully caught himself.

"Oh?" He asked innocently. Charlotte hummed, a sly smile slipping onto her lips.

"Thank you, Ginger." She muttered. Dick shrugged and looked back down at the keys.

"I never liked her anyway." He joked, making Charlotte snort loudly as she tried to suppress her laughter. Once she'd made sure that she hadn't woken up the oldest Sherman, she tiptoed around to his side of the piano and watched him play. Charlotte leaned forward to see the sheet music he'd been scribbling on all day, and as she did so, she lightly rested her hand on Dick's shoulder. The warmth from her touch felt wonderful and Dick tried not to let it distract him as he continued to play softly.

"Did you finish it?" She asked, her eyes following the scrawled musical notations, trying to understand how the words went with the music that he was playing. She didn't really have the right mind for music, but she could understand a little.

"Come, sit." He invited, shuffling down the piano stool to give her room. Charlotte carefully positioned herself next to him so that she wouldn't fall off and was glad of a better view of the music. Dick stopped playing and watched her for a moment before smiling. "Wanna hear how it sounds?" Charlotte returned her attention to him, her eyebrows drawn together questioningly.

"But won't we wake up your brother?" She murmured, glancing at Bob as he shifted in his sleep. Dick shrugged and waved off her concerns.

"He's fine. When he sleeps, he's out like a light." He assured her. That was enough for Charlie, so she nodded eagerly, looking back at the music before them.

"Alright then." She said, trying to hide how excited she was. She would be one of the first to hear this piece. It was just her and Richard and the music. He reshuffled the pages so that they were in order and showed her where the words started. Her eyes flicked to the top of the page to find out the name of the song and felt her heart sink. "'Feed the Birds.'" She read aloud. She looked to Richard with big, worried hazel eyes. "It sounds terribly sad." Dick chuckled quietly and shook his head as he began to play the opening bars of the tune.

"Just listen and you'll see." He told her softly and Charlie laughed a little too as she looked back at the sheet music. "Early each day to the steps of Saint Paul's, the little old bird woman comes." He sang softly, glancing at Charlotte to gauge her reaction. She smiled at him and nodded encouragingly so he continued to sing. "In her own special way to the people she calls: 'Come, buy my bags full of crumbs.' Come feed the little birds, show them you care. And you'll be glad if you do. Their young ones are hungry, their nests are so bare. All it takes is tuppence from you." Dick did something tricky and impressive with his fingers as the melody changed slightly, reaching the chorus of the song. "'Feed the birds, tuppence a bag. Tuppence, tuppence, tuppence a bag'. 'Feed the birds', that's what she cries. While overhead, her birds fill the skies." Charlie began to smile as he sang. Something about this song made her feel safe and warm. It reminded her of her home and she couldn't help but think the little old bird woman was talking to her. "All around the cathedral the saints and apostles look down as she sells her wares. Although you can't see it, you know they are smiling each time someone shows that he cares."

Walt Disney stood in the doorway of the music room, watching the pair behind the piano with a warm smile. He'd heard the piano music from outside and had ventured in to investigate. What he found pleased him immensely. Charlotte was smiling so beautifully and Dick, well, he was staring at her with the most dumbstruck look he'd ever seen on a man. There was only ever one reason a guy had a look like that on his face around a lady.

"Though her words are simple and few, listen, listen, she's calling to you." Charlie looked round at Richard and beamed at him brightly. Dick smiled back before feeling his face grow hot and looking back down at the piano keys. "'Feed the birds, tuppence a bag. Tuppence, tuppence, tuppence a bag'." He finished softly. Dick raised his fingers from the keys and settled his hands in his lap, a pleased smile on his face. "Wonderful." He murmured. Charlotte raised her eyebrows, a teasing smile on her lips.

"Well, you wrote it, Mr. Sherman." She replied and Richard all but blushed at the compliment.

"No, no, I meant you." He went on, although his smile was a little more crooked with embarrassment now. Charlotte tilted her head ever so slightly to the side and he gave a defeated shrug. "You're wonderful." He continued, meeting her eyes properly for the first time since she'd entered the room. Charlie opened her mouth to reply, but found she didn't quite know what to say. Luckily, Walt chose then to make his presence known so that the girl didn't sit there looking like a goldfish.

"That'll work." The couple at the piano both jumped at the new voice and whipped their heads around to see him.

"Walt." Charlotte breathed with a relieved laugh, a hand placed over her thudding heart. She suddenly felt like she was interrupting something, so she decided to leave them to it. She gave Richard a grateful smile. "I think I'll go home now." She told him, then she stood from the piano and made her way past Disney to the door. Charlie had been on her way home when she'd heard piano music still playing and curiosity had gotten the better of her, but now she was well and truly worn out. "I'll see you tomorrow." She called softly over her shoulder to the men, who nodded back.

"Goodnight." Walt said, raising his hand in farewell.

"Goodnight, Charlie." Said Richard, a little softer, smiling at the woman's retreating form. Disney sighed and tucked his hands into his jacket pockets.

"But she's going to say no, isn't she?" He murmured, and Richard instantly knew who and what he was referring to. Walt's eyes wandered over the piano in front of him, thinking about the song he had just heard him play. It was a beautiful piece, it'd be great for the picture. But then there was Pamela. "Woman's a conundrum." He muttered, almost to himself. Richard nodded faintly along with him before an idea suddenly struck him. He shuffled the sheet music in front of him, trying to find one piece in particular. It was a little something he, his brother and Don had been toying around with earlier.

"My world was calm, well ordered, exemplary." He sang, his fingers ever so softly playing out the faint melody, trying hard not to wake up his brother. "Then came this person, with chaos in her wake." He pointed out the words to his boss so he could sing along and the man chuckled, taking him up on his offer. Disney sat down beside the musician and began to sing. "And now my life's ambitions go with one fell blow. It's quite a bitter pill to take." Walt smiled sadly and raised his eyebrows at the musician.

"Inspired by someone we know?" Richard shrugged, nodding down to where his brother was still asleep, clutching his injured leg tightly as he often did.

"You'd have to ask Bob." He said, feigning innocence and trying hard not to smile. He chewed his lip before continuing. "She might surprise us all." But Walt shook his head.

"She won't." Richard frowned. Walt Disney was the figurehead for following your dreams, it seemed odd that he'd let one person ruin that idealism.

"You don't know that." Disney shook his head again, his eyes trained on the piano.

"I do. I know it. I know it only too well." He said slowly, bitterly. "I've fought this battle from her side." Dick raised his chin, beginning to understand what he meant. "Pat Powers, he wanted the mouse and I didn't have a bean in my pocket back then. He was this big, terrifying New York producer and I was just a kid from Missouri with a sketch of Mickey but..." He shook his head determinedly. "It woulda killed me to give him up." He looked to Richard and said firmly, "Honest to God killed me." Dick nodded, he understood completely. "That mouse," Said Walt. "Is family." Then he paused, seeming to mull over the situation in his head for a moment before standing up with a sigh. He slid his hands back into his pockets and walked towards the door. "Go home." He added as an afterthought. Richard smiled and was about to start packing away his things when Walt turned around again in the doorway. "Oh, and to settle a bet between me and Tommie, just ask that girl out to dinner." His words completely took Dick by surprise and he spluttered through a reply.

"I don't know if that's... I don't-"

"I know it's none of my business, but..." Disney shrugged, tapping a finger to his temple then pointing at Dick. "Just think about it." Then he was gone. Dick stared after him for a moment before sighing and shaking his head.

"Believe me, I have." He muttered.


	11. Chapter 11

Charlotte pursed her lips, trying hard not laugh as she watched Bob struggle and swear. He'd brought in a radio for them to listen to while they worked, but the old thing desperately needed tuning and seemed quite adamant to resist any attempt to be fixed.

"Oh, good." Charlotte had chuckled, her hands placed firmly on her hips as she watched Bob tamper with the little radio. "I thought I was going to have to hide Richard's record player. I'm glad to listen to something a little more modern." Bob had snorted but agreed with her. His brother's taste in music had not evolved over the years, and he still listened to the same records their parents used to put on at home. He liked that music too, but it was important to pay attention to more current music, especially in their line of work. That had been ten minutes ago and there had been little progress. Don was in a meeting with the director of the picture and wouldn't be back until later, and Dick was off somewhere, but she didn't quite know where. She didn't want to ask, what with the how frustrated Bob was getting, so she just sat and watched him. It was very amusing.

"Almost..." He muttered, as he fiddled a dial with one hand and jiggled the antenna with the other. The little radio whirred and crackled then suddenly sprang into life. Music poured out of the speakers and Bob let out a triumphant cry. "Got it!" Charlie clapped her hands and cheered for him, but then her face lit up with recognition as she realised what tune was playing.

"Oh, I love this song!" She gasped over the sound of Chubby Checker's latest hit, much to Robert's surprise.

"You do?" He laughed, both amused by her excited expression and shocked that she, what with all her airs and graces, would be a fan of this song. Charlotte took a step back from the table she had been sitting on, nodding her head to the beat.

"Of course!" She cried, giving him an excited grin. As if to demonstrate, she bent her knees and began to move her hips back and forth. "Come on let's twist again, like we did last summer!" She sang brightly, raising her arms and doing a surprisingly good Twist. Bob let out a raucous laugh as he watched her, and Charlotte couldn't help but giggle too as she flicked her leg up, then moved to the other. It was possibly the only dance she had ever mastered, anything else was far too complicated, but she could Twist. "Yeah, let's twist again, like we did last year!" She continued to sing, hoping to inspire Bob to dance as well, but he remained stationary. There was no way he could successfully carry out such a gyrating dance, his injured leg was one thing, but he hadn't been much of a dancer before the war either. He saw movement over Charlotte's shoulder and spotted his brother entering he room.

Dick stopped in the doorway, staring at Charlotte as if stunned. She was an effulgent, cheery woman, but it wasn't often that she was this animated. Even though her formal ways had diminished since she'd arrived, she was still the epitome of composure and tranquillity, letting everyone around her know that she was confident and that she knew what she was doing. That's why Dick's eyes were like saucers as he watched her dance, taking in her carefree smile and strong voice.

"Do you remember when things were really hummin'? Yeah, let's twist again, twistin' time is here!" She stopped dancing and placed her hands back on her hips, still laughing gaily. Dick tilted his head to one side and said,

"I didn't know you like to sing." Charlotte jumped, spinning around to look at him with a hand pressed to her chest. When she saw it was only him, she let out a breathless laugh.

"Oh, my gosh!" She gasped, dropping her hand and grinning at him. "Richard, you frightened me." The musician apologised as he made his way over to them.

"I didn't know you like to sing." He repeated, sliding his hands into his pockets and raising his eyebrows expectantly. Charlotte glanced to his brother, as if the two shared an inside joke, before she simply replied,

"Everyone sings, Richard." She was doing it again. Charlie was immensely clever, and seemed to enjoy making him blush, so she teased him as often as was possible. And somehow, despite his best efforts, he always felt like an idiot whenever she smiled at him like that. His hands left his pockets again, and they flapped ridiculously as he tried to get his tongue working.

"Yeah, but I didn't know that you, amongst your other... Uh..." Charlotte frowned at him, whilst behind her, Bob closed his eyes and touched his fingers to his forehead exasperatedly.

"Are you alright?" Charlotte asked, her jocular tone disappearing to be replaced with concern as Dick fumbled over his words. He gave her a bashful grin,

"Whenever I talk to you it's like..." He suddenly realised that any attempt to explain his speechlessness would only cause him further embarrassment, and really wished he hadn't started talking. Charlie looked curious, which meant there really was no way he was getting out of it.

"Like what?" She shook her head quizzically, not sure what he was talking about. Richard's throat felt desert dry, but he soldiered on, determined not to look too much like an idiot.

"The words that actually manage to come out, come out all jumbled, I don't..." He waved his hand again, and Charlotte watched his movements with a tiny hint of a smile. "You, uh..." He saw the look on her face, that soft, kind look that let him know she understood what he was trying to say. Oh, he was cute. He was unfairly cute. Charlotte had to bite her lip to stop herself from grinning like a madwoman, which Dick enjoyed watching immensely. After a considerable awkward silence, in which Bob wasn't sure whether he felt pity for his brother or embarrassment, Charlotte cleared her throat.

"Was there something you wanted to ask me?" She suggested, trying to help him out by changing the subject. She was essentially giving him a ladder so that he might climb out of the hole he'd dug himself. Dick nodded, relieved at the lifeline she had thrown him.

"Oh, I was, uh, just in our office when I remembered that-"

"You have an office?" Charlotte said abruptly, again changing the subject, although this time without an ulterior motive. Dick glanced at his brother then back to Charlotte, whose eyes were wide with surprise.

"Yeah..?" He said slowly, his brow creasing. "You didn't know?" When Charlotte shook her head, he gave her that crooked, boyish grin. "You thought we worked in here 24/7?" It was Charlotte's turn to look embarrassed, but she played it much better than he had.

"I've never thought about it before." She said simply. Bob raised his eyebrows at his brother then spoke to Charlie.

"D'you wanna see it?" He offered. Immediately, Charlotte nodded, her face lighting up.

"Yes, please!" She said quickly. Bob hadn't expected her to look quite so excited about the offer, it was only their office after all, but if Charlotte was that interested in seeing it, they couldn't possibly keep it from her. So Bob stopped the record and they led her out of the rehearsal room and up a flight of stairs. The hallways up there were a warm, creamy colour, and the floors were lined with thick carpet, very different to the wood panels of the corridor below. But there were picture frames on every wall, snapshots of life at the studios, similar to the halls that led to her own office. They talked and joked as they turned corner after corner, until they finally came to a door that had the names of the musicians stencilled onto it. Bob opened the door and stepped aside, letting Charlie enter first.

"Here we are!" He declared, sweeping his arm across the room grandly. Charlotte stepped into the cosy office and began to smile.

"Gosh." She murmured. "How splendid." Dick couldn't hold back his charmed grin, her words and the wonder in her voice sending his heart into a stupor. Bob noticed his brother's love-struck, wistful expression and gave a sharp, pointed cough. Dick glanced his way, saw the look on his face, and instantly dropped his gaze to the floor, embarrassed at having been caught out. Bob knew all about yesterday's attempt to tell Charlie how he felt. After he was done talking some sense into Richard, Don had marched straight back to that very office to tell Bob all about it. When he'd first heard the tale, Robert had been shocked by his brother's bravery, but then he quickly came to realise, as Dick had, that telling Charlie how he felt would have dire consequences.

Charlotte was inspecting their office, blissfully unaware of the silent conversation going on behind her back. She was studying their workspace in particular, which was rather unusual. They had a singular desk, but there was a chair on either side. She had her hands resting on the back of one of these chairs as she tried to work out why they had designed the room this way. After he had recovered from one of his brief, yet frequent, periods of dazzlement (often caused by Charlotte being Charlotte) Dick stepped forward to explain how it all worked.

"This is where I sit, here." He said brightly, patting the seat to let her know she should sit down. "And Bob's on the other side." He added, nodding to the empty chair on the opposite side of the desk. Bob joined the pair and put his hands on the back of the seat Charlie had settled in.

"Then when we come up with an idea, Dick spins around, like so." He span the chair, not too quickly, but fast enough so that Charlotte let out a little squeak of surprise. He gently pushed her forward towards the piano that sat against the wall behind Dick's chair.

"Ta-dah! Easy piano access." The youngest Sherman said, wriggling his fingers as if they'd just performed a magic trick. Charlotte's head was spinning, but she smiled all the same.

"You must get terribly dizzy." She muttered, pressing a hand to her forehead to try and stop her mind swimming. The brothers chuckled as they got comfy, Bob taking up his own chair and Dick sitting on the edge of the desk. Once Charlie could see straight, she noticed the window on the wall across from them. "Oh, and the view." She breathed, getting out of the chair to look out the window. From there, she could pretty much see the entire lot. They weren't that high up, but the people below still looked small.

"Mrs. Travers has been up here a few times, mostly to yell at us, but you know... I think she's getting better." Dick told her as she took in the scene outside. He'd noticed that Charlotte had an affinity for beautiful views, the one from her office window was often a source of inspiration, and she had told him in great detail about the sights she could see from her hotel. Perhaps that was where her love of art came from, as if she was trying to transfer the beauty she saw onto paper for everyone to see. His brother snorted, bringing Dick back to the present. Bob used his good leg to push himself off the desk so that his chair swung lazily from side to side.

"Or she's just getting used to us." He chimed in. Dick smirked,

"Tolerating us, more like."

"Do you think she'll sign?" The two men looked around at Charlie again, who now had her back to the view, her hands resting on the windowsill. Dick mirrored her expression, twisting his lip and furrowing his brow.

"She has to." He replied in a low voice. They didn't want to push the author, and if she didn't want to sign over the rights, she didn't have to. Charlotte seemed the closest to her out of all of them, and she was still kept at arm's length, so what chance did the rest of them have to try and convince her? Bob sighed and drummed his fingers on the desk in thought.

"Don't know what we'll do if she doesn't." He said dully. The cheerful, friendly atmosphere in the room suddenly felt tense. The negative topic captured their thoughts as they all tried to figure out what would become of them and their hard work if Mrs. Travers decided she didn't want the film made. Dick was the first to snap out of it, and he decided to break the tension by asking them,

"Do you guys want a drink?" Charlotte looked up, glad to be dragged away from her anxieties.

"Water is fine for me, thank you." She replied, smiling gratefully at the musician. Dick raised his eyebrows at his brother, who added,

"The same. Thanks, Dick." Richard nodded and left the room. Charlie stared after him for a moment before letting out a long sigh and looking back out of the window. Once again, she was alone with Bob, although this time it was considerably less awkward. They'd known each other for a little less than a month now, and while she was much closer to Richard, his brother had also become a firm friend.

"You really do have a wonderful office." She murmured, beginning to play a game with herself as she watched the people scurry past. She picked one person from the crowd and watched them until they were out of sight, then she chose another going the opposite way. "It must be lovely to work with your brother."

"I love it, I couldn't have wished for a better partner." Bob replied, and although she had her back to him, she could feel the warmth in his voice. She was an only child and so she had never understood the sibling dynamic, although she had envied it at great length. Hearing the way Bob talked about Richard only made her long for a brother or sister to keep her company more and more. "Has Dick told you that our dad was a songwriter too?" Charlotte pushed herself away from the windowsill and sat down in Dick's chair.

"Yes, he did mention it." She said, thinking back to their time on the hillside. They had shared many things that day, information about the Shermans' parents being one of them. The memory brought a smile to her face, and she felt a familiar nostalgic tug in her chest. She had once doubted that Dick would remember that day with as much fondness as she did, but what with recent events, the musician's feelings were quite clear. Charlotte felt her cheeks grow hot at the thought, and tried to nonchalantly hide her face from Bob. She and Dick were mercilessly teased, she didn't want to spark another session of it now.

"I thought he might have. He tells you everything." That really didn't help with the redness of her complexion. Charlotte pretended to be very interested in a waste paper basket that was tucked away under the desk, still partially hiding her face. "But, uh, it was Dad who actually came up with 'supercalifragilisticexpialidocious'." Bob heard her make a surprised sound, but it was a little muffled behind her hand. He lowered an eyebrow, not entirely sure what the woman was up to.

"Really?" She asked, finally looking up at him when she could be sure she wouldn't do herself any further embarrassment. Bob smiled, rubbing the side of his nose absent-mindedly.

"Yeah. He used to mess around with words like that to make us laugh. I remembered it one day when we were up here." He smiled at the memory of his father. He had been a wonderful man and he missed him every day. The legacy he had passed onto him and his brother would forever drive them forwards, despite all obstacles, even unimpressed writer-shaped obstacles. They were silent for a moment, though not uncomfortably. Bob studied the artist, trying to decide whether or not she was in the right mood for him to bring up what he wanted to ask her. She caught his gaze and smiled at him warmly, which was a good enough sign for him. He sat up a little straighter in his chair, readying himself for the coming conversation. He had a tendency to sink right back into any chair he sat in, partly because of his leg, but also because this was his office and he could sit anyway that he liked, whether there was a lady present or not. He cleared his throat, earning Charlotte's full attention, and said, "Dick told us about your, uh, plans." Charlie looked momentarily taken aback by his words, she hadn't expected that at all. He also thought he saw a flicker of sadness in her expression before she expertly covered it up.

"I thought he might've by now. But you hadn't brought it up." She replied quietly, smiling ruefully at her friend. Bob shrugged, dropping his gaze to the desk in front of him.

"We didn't wanna upset you." He said simply, 'we' meaning him and Don. "It's a shame, you do a good job. We'll miss you." Charlotte almost snorted then. 'You do a good job' was about as much as she had expected from him. When she'd first met them, she had instantly known that the eldest Sherman would be a little harder to get to know than his brother, who greeted everyone with a wide smile and childlike enthusiasm, but his last words surprised her. That was an unusual amount of affection for Bob to show her. She decided not to question it, afraid that if she pressed him, he would retract his words.

"I'll miss you too." She replied, smiling warmly at the musician. Again, Bob could see why his brother had fallen so hard for her. That look could make the most brutish and scarred man's heart soften. Bob nodded towards the door Dick had exited through, momentarily wondering why he was taking so long with their drinks.

"He's gonna be a mess." He told Charlotte. Her smile instantly dropped, and was replaced by a torn and woebegone expression. He mentally kicked himself for his own stupidity. Why had he said that? Of all the things to bring up. But Charlotte forced the tiniest of smiles, covering up her slip, and leaned her head against her palm, her elbow resting on the arm of her chair.

"The feeling will be mutual." She said softly. Bob looked away from her then, feeling guilty for even mentioning it. When she left, Dick would be heartbroken, no matter how much of a brave face he tried to put on. But Charlotte would feel so much worse, because she was the one who was leaving, she was the cause of it all.

"Make sure you write him, or something." Bob said quietly, trying to be optimistic. They could keep in touch, it's not like they were never going to hear from each other ever again. She was moving back to England, not Mars. He scratched his head just for something to do, then he exhaled sharply through his nose, his smile beginning to grow again. "He's gonna be a dead weight around here unless you keep him going." He'd meant it as a joke, trying to tease her so that the mood in the room would go back to the way it was before, but he realised he'd come off quite mean. The woman sat up straight again and shook her head slightly. He was scared that she would be angry at him, but instead, she seemed to have recognised his teasing tone.

"Don't say that." She muttered, looking down at her hands with a slight smile. Bob chuckled, glad that she'd taken the joke in good humour.

"Ah, I'm just kiddin' with you." He said, relaxing back into his chair again. Fortunately, his risky jibe had lifted the tense atmosphere of the room, and Charlotte seemed considerably less tortured about the whole idea, at least outwardly. Then, in a more serious tone, he added, "But, uh, make it a proper goodbye, okay?" He was still a big brother at the end of the day, and he couldn't stand the thought of Richard being hurt. He tilted his head from side to side. "Closure, and all that." Charlotte nodded, she completely agreed with him. Saying goodbye to this wonderful world and to Richard would be one of the hardest thing she would ever have to do, but if they did it right, then perhaps they could soften the blow, even if only by a little bit.

"Yeah, okay." She confirmed, smiling sadly at her friend. Bob nodded slowly, glad that they had come to an agreement. Then he realised what she'd said and let out a snort.

"You're starting to sound less and less English every day." He realised, shaking an accusatory finger at her. Charlotte sat bolt upright in her chair and stared at him with wide eyes.

"How dare you suggest such a thing, you impertinent man." She gasped, her jaw dropping open. Bob let out a loud laugh and raised his hands.

"And we're back." He commentated, making Charlotte smile wryly. The changes in her speech patterns had been minuscule, so small, in fact, that she hadn't even noticed it herself. Every so often, though, she found herself using the same dialect and colloquialisms as the people around her. Her mother had been afraid that she would become too Americanised, and at first Charlie had scoffed at the idea, but now it seemed she had been right to worry.

"Who's back?" They both look around at the new voice and found Dick standing in the doorway, looking at them with a confused smile. He held in his hands a small circular tray, safely supporting three tall glasses of iced water. It was painfully hot outside, and they both rushed to grab their drinks. Once they had given their thanks to Richard and sat back down in their chairs, Bob finally replied to his question.

"Charlie's obvious dialect changes are causing her grief." He sent the artist a wink and she smiled sheepishly. Dick chuckled as he sat down on the edge of the desk. He too had noticed the slight changes to Charlotte's speech patterns, but hadn't found the time to bring it up.

"We'll have you talking like a proper New Yorker in no time." He joshed, taking a big gulp of his water that he had travelled so far to obtain. Well, he'd only had to go downstairs to Dolly, but she had ensnared him in a long conversation that he really didn't want to have, the main points of which were: Ginger; Ginger's tale-telling, how sorry she was that it had got out; and finally how glad she was that he and Charlie were finally together. He had struggled to interrupt her and inform her that he and Charlotte were not in fact together, and that they were simply friends, but the young secretary remained sceptical.

"Of course, that's where you grew up." Charlotte remembered. She looked between the brothers, hungry to learn about the city. "What is it like?" She had led a relatively sheltered life thus far and had always wanted to learn as much as she could about the big, wide world. Dick had told her that he and his family had made many cross-country moves before finally settling down in Beverly Hills when Dick was nine and Bob twelve. So in fact, his family was the polar opposite to her static, stubborn relatives who had probably all lived and died in London since the time of the Romans.

"Big." Said Bob simply. "And loud." There were really no words to describe the city, so there was no use delving into his vocabulary for better, more captivating language. Charlotte laughed softly at his words, but couldn't help but feel a little disappointed by Bob's sparse description. Perhaps Dick saw this, because he added in a quiet voice,

"It's always new." Charlotte looked up and studied him for a moment before smiling slightly. That was the perfect answer she had been looking for.

"London is the opposite." She said, looking back at her water before Bob started to poke fun at them again. "During the war, half the city crumbled. Fortunately, they missed my home, but most of the infrastructure had to be rebuilt." She glanced between them and found that they were both listened interestedly, so she continued. "They built these- What do you call them?" She clicked her fingers, her brow furrowed, before she found the right words. "Blocks of flats. They're all 'new and improved', but there are still so many of the old buildings still standing."

"Like Saint Paul's Cathedral." Dick pointed out. Charlotte smiled and nodded.

"Exactly like Saint Paul's Cathedral." She agreed. Then she shrugged, smirking at her friend. "Otherwise, where would the bird women sell her wares?" The song Dick had showed her yesterday was ingrained in her memory, and she could still see his sad smile and hear the soft piano music as clear as a bell.

"You showed her?" Bob realised, wondering why he hadn't been there with them. He didn't want to be a third wheel, but at the same time, he had worked just as hard as his brother, he wanted to be there when his friends heard it for the first time. Unbeknownst to Bob, he  _had_  been there.

"You were asleep." Dick told him, smirking at his brother, who looked quite sheepish.

"Oh."

"It's perfect." Charlotte assured him, leaning across the desk and patting his hand companionably. "The most beautiful song I've ever heard." Bob perked up then and felt pride start to fill his chest. He grinned at his brother who returned it, feeling that same pride. Then Dick looked to Charlie, trying to tell her without words just how grateful he was, both for her praise and, really, for everything. She had been an incomparable source of kindness, support and friendship over the past weeks, and there weren't enough words in the world to piece together a worthy thank you. So he smiled at her, his eyes somewhat sad, and hoped that she got the message. The corner of Charlotte's mouth lifted in a minuscule smile, meant only for him, before she looked away and began to speak to Bob again. In her own way, she had let him know that she did understand, and that she too was thankful every day for their time together. She would soon be gone, her stay having been as fleeting as breath on a mirror, but he would always remember her.

"C'mon," Dick said eventually, after listening to Bob and Charlie chat for a few minutes. "We better be getting back. Don'll be wondering where we are." Charlotte and his brother begrudgingly left their comfortable seats, but they soon picked up the pace once they began to walk back towards the rehearsal room.

"I haven't heard any of it," Began Charlotte, continuing the conversation she and Bob had shared whilst Dick had been stuck in his own thoughts. "But when I asked Richard about it, he said that this new song is terribly interesting." Dick realised they were discussing the song they would be presenting to Mrs. Travers today. He had briefly described it to Charlotte, but the artist wanted more. She looked between them quizzically. "Something about a bank?" The brothers shared a look but refused to answer Charlotte's inquiries, no matter how much she badgered them on their journey. Charlie was getting quite fed up with their taciturnity, and was still questioning them when they arrived at the music room. Why did they insist on being so secretive about their work? They always kept it as a surprise, which was lovely, yes, but she was always left impossibly curious.

Mrs. Travers was already in the room, which surprised her. Usually she tried to make an entrance, slinging her coat over a chair and taking command of the room as if she owned it. Perhaps they had missed her grand entrance that day, but Charlotte could sense that something was off with the author. She had her back to them, and didn't look around when they noisily entered the room. Usually she wouldn't miss a chance to scold them, so what had changed? Charlotte put her worries about the woman to the back of her mind for the moment, as there were far more pressing matters to attend to. She had gallantly accepted defeat, now she knew that no amount of pestering would needle out the information she wanted from the Shermans. So instead, she bounded happily up to Don.

"Good afternoon!" She trilled brightly, surprising even herself with her effervescence.

"Good afternoon, Charlotte." Don replied, just as warmly. He was standing by the piano, having just returned from his meeting, and was helping Dick pick out the music for that day's session. "And how are you today?" He asked. Charlotte shrugged and raised her arms out at her sides.

"The sun is shining, the birds are singing. What more could I ask for?" She replied heartily, making Don chuckle. The boys quickly got to work and soon they were ready to perform. Charlie took her usual seat in a nearby armchair, excited to see what they'd come up with, but there was something niggling at the back of her mind. Mrs. Travers still hadn't said a word. The author continued to stare out of the window, not seeming to have noticed the boisterousness of her colleagues or the fact that they were now ready to begin. Charlotte worried her lip as she watched Mrs. Travers, then glanced at Don to see that he had also noticed her uncharacteristic silence.

"Mrs. Travers?" He called nervously, his eyes darting this way and that. He was afraid to interrupt the author's thoughts, but they needed to get on with the rehearsal. "Mrs. Travers, we'd like to play you something new, if that's okay?" There was still no reply. The woman didn't even move. Don thought perhaps she had heard him but couldn't be bothered to indicate that she was listening, so he carried on. "Uh, Mr. Banks has taken his children to the bank where he works, and the men are explaining the importance of... Of, uh..." He trailed off, and now Dick and Bob had also noticed her quiet solemnity. Dick glanced at Charlotte, who shook her head to let him know that she didn't understand either. "Mrs. Travers?" Don tried again, and finally the author looked around. Her eyes were glassy, as if her mind was still elsewhere, but Don still said, "We were saying we'd like to play you the song in the bank. Would that be good?" Pamela nodded faintly and made a small noise that sounded like words, but Charlie was too far away to catch them. This was clearly enough for the three men, as Don moved back to the piano and Dick readied his hands to play.

"Fidelity Fiduciary Bank." He stated the name of the song proudly, but before he began to play, Don looked around and waved at Charlie. She frowned at him and his gesticulating increased.

"Charlotte, c'mere." He said in a hushed voice. Giving the writer a funny look, Charlotte left her chair, brushing down the front of her dress as she walked to the piano. Don held up a copy of the sheet music, waving it enticingly. "Would you like to..?" Charlotte's eyes widened and she floundered for a moment before she could get her mouth working.

"Me? Are you sure?" She stammered. She had never done anything like this before. She tended to stay behind the scenes, never once taking a spotlight for herself. Perhaps it was because she was too modest, but it was much more likely that she was far too frightened of performing to ever get a taste of the limelight. Don sensed her hesitation and gently pressed the music into her hands.

"Sure, I'm sure." He said, then he pointed out her part in the music. "There, you're Tomes; Bob can be Mousely; and Dick can be Grubbs." Charlotte glanced at Richard, knowing that he would always be a source of comfort. True to form, Dick smiled and nodded encouragingly. With her courage bolstered, but with no small amount of trepidation, Charlie gave Don a weak smile, letting him know she was ready. "I am, uh, Dawes." Don said, his voice a lot louder now as he addressed Mrs. Travers, who had turned back to the window and again gave no indication that she had heard him. "'So you have tuppence? May I be permitted to see it?'" Began Don in a booming, croaking old man's voice. Then, in a contrasting tone, "'No, I want it to feed the birds!' Michael says." Again, he swapped voices. "Fiddlesticks boy! Feed the birds and what've you got?"

"Fat birds!" They all cried. Charlotte had been watching Don with such interest that she nearly missed her first line. She meekly joined in at the end of the sentence, worrying that the boys would laugh at her. They didn't, of course, they would never do such a thing, but they did notice and they reached a silent, mutual agreement that Charlotte needed much more encouragement.

"But! If you invest your tuppence wisely in the bank, safe and sound. Soon that tuppence, safely invested in the bank will compound." Sang Dick, his voice jumping about with the staccato lyrics. He grinned up at Charlotte as the tune changed slightly, trying to get her to relax. Though by now he should've known that his smile had quite the opposite effect on Charlotte Johnson-Liddle. "And you'll achieve that sense of conquest as your affluence expands, in the hands of the directors who invest as propriety demands!"

Although she desperately wanted to pay the song the attention it deserved, Charlotte couldn't help but glance frequently at Mrs. Travers to see how she was receiving the music. Her heart began to feel heavy when she saw that Pamela was still staring blankly out of the window, her arms folded across her chest protectively.

"And you'll achieve that sense of stature as your influence expands." Charlotte shook her head and forced herself to focus on what the boys had worked so hard on. Soon she would have to join in. So far, she had enjoyed listening to Bob and Dick share the lyrics, but her lines were fast approaching. "To the high financial strata that established credit now commands." She began to smile as the tempo changed suddenly, the pounding beat easing her nerves as her friends began to nod along. "You can purchase first and second trust deeds." Dick sang, really giving it all he had as he drummed his fingers against the keys.

"Think of the foreclosures!" Bob called.

"Bonds!" Charlotte cried, feeling a lot braver now that the music had picked up speed. Dick grinned at her, glad that she was having as much fun as they were.

"Chattels!"

"Dividends!"

"Shares!"

"Bankruptcies!" Charlotte let out a loud laugh, getting completely lost in the music. The excitement of the performance was coursing through her, and she couldn't remember why she had felt so nervous.

"Debtor sales!"

"Opportunities!"

"All manner of private enterprise!" Not one of them had noticed that Mrs. Travers had finally moved away from the window and was slowly approaching one of the pin-up boards that still littered the room.

"Shipyards!"

"The mercantile!"

"Collieries!"

"Tanneries!" No one saw the way that Mrs. Travers stared at Charlotte's drawing of Mr. Banks, or how her eyes began to brim with tears.

"Incorporations!"

"Amalgamations!"

"Banks!" They all chorused together, then there was a beat of silence wherein Dick gave Charlie a quick double thumbs-up before he picked up the tune again. She laughed breathlessly and felt Don give her shoulder a congratulatory pat. "To be specific: in the Dawes, Tomes, Mousely, Grubbs Fidelity Fiduciary Bank!" They all whooped and cheered once Dick's fingers left the keys.

"It works!" Bob said happily as he patted his brother's back. They were all wearing ridiculous, matching grins, and Charlotte realised she hadn't felt this happy for a long while.

"It's getting great." Don agreed.

"That was exciting," Gushed Charlotte, tucking a stray curl of hair behind her ear. Her neat bun was probably a mess from all the energy she had put into the song, but she was too elated to care. "Does it always feel like this?" Dick chuckled at her breathless excitement and rosy cheeks.

"Oh, yeah." He said, sending her a sly wink.

"Why did you have to make him so cruel?" A shrill voice suddenly interrupted their festivities, and they all jumped at the sound. The four colleagues turned to see Mrs. Travers standing by a drawing board, her face wrought with outrage. "He was not a monster!" She cried. Don, who was standing the closest to her, pressed a hand to his chest and shook his head slightly.

"Who are we talking about? I'm confused." He asked unhelpfully. Mrs. Travers' face was growing redder by the second, and her eyes were shining with anger.

"You all have children, yes?" She demanded of them. Don and Bob easily replied.

"Yes."

"Yep."

"Not yet." Dick and Charlotte answered simultaneously. Charlotte looked down at Richard in surprise and found he was already looking up at her, the same shock clear on his face. They both looked away again, their faces burning with embarrassment. Mrs. Travers tilted her head imploringly.

"And do those children make letters for you? Do- Do they write letters, make drawings? A- And would you tear up those gifts? In front of them?" Bob couldn't believe this was happening. This was the most interest the author had ever shown in their work, but this wasn't how they'd wanted it to be. She looked distressed, like she could hardly believe what they'd created. "It's a dreadful thing to do!" Charlotte felt her heart sink and began to feel quite sick. She realised with a jolt that it wasn't anger that was turning Mrs. Travers' face red or making her eyes shine. She looked absolutely grief-stricken, and it was awful to think that this was the first real emotion she'd shown them. "I don't understand! Why must father tear up the advertisement his children have made and throw it in the fireplace?" Don stared at the author in disbelief, his mouth hanging open. Where was this come from? Dick looked up at his brother to gauge his reaction, and saw that he was staring in abject horror at the woman. They were all shell-shocked, hardly believing that this was actually happening. "Why won't he mend their kite? Why have you made him so unspeakably awful? In glorious Technicolor? For all the world to see." Mrs. Travers' forceful tone dropped, leaving only anguish in its place. "If you claim to make them live, why can't he...  _They_... Live well?" Charlotte's lips parted at the minute falter in the woman's words. She had corrected herself quickly, but not fast enough so that she hadn't caught her discrepancy. Mrs. Travers shook her head, her tone heavy with despair. "I can't bear it. Please don't. Please don't. I feel like I've let him down again." She mumbled before she turned and stalked out of the room. They were all so astonished that none of them made a move to stop her. Don was the first to come to his senses, and he took a step forwards.

"Mrs. Travers?" He called uselessly, for the author was already long gone. They stared after her, all too aghast to think of something to say.

* * *

They didn't revisit the music that day. It felt like a gloomy cloud had settled over the room, greying the imagination and joy that usually poured out of every door. Charlotte and Dick had slipped off to her office where they could sit and talk quietly without being disturbed. Not that they thought that Bob and Don got in the way, but it was clear- apparently to everyone at the studios- that they deeply enjoyed each other's company, even if the carefree mood from earlier had long since evaporated.

"What do you think happened?" Dick murmured. He was leaning against the windowsill again, his arms crossed tightly. His eyes were trained on the floor, his mouth forming a grimace.

"I don't know." Replied Charlotte, just as softly. She was at her desk, toying with a stray pencil. She didn't look up at him as she spoke, choosing instead to study the drawing in front of her, the one that she had been working on earlier. "I don't think we'll ever be able to guess what's going on inside her head." Dick nodded, rubbing the side of his neck distractedly.

"Woman's a conundrum." He sighed, repeating Walt's words from the day before. They were silent again for a little while, before Dick decided that the atmosphere in the room was far too sombre. He raised his head and his eyes flicked over the multitude of drawings that were pinned to the wall behind the artist. They were beautiful, and it was a shame that her job often went unnoticed, both by people in the company and by those who would eventually watch the film. If there even was a film. "I don't know if anyone's ever told you this, Charles," He began, his lip curling into a slight smile. "But you're pretty good at art." The woman chuckled, her long fingers still turning the pencil over and over.

"I've heard such praises being thrown about from time to time." She replied evenly. There it was. There was the confidence and wit that he adored. It had shrank back when they'd performed the song, but now it appeared that Charlie was back to her usual self.

"Wish I could draw like that. I can't even draw a circle without it going wobbly." He continued, returning his gaze to the wall of wonders. Charlie hummed as she thought for a moment, mulling over the musician's words. Then she stood up and gestured towards her chair.

"Sit down." She told him. He raised his eyebrows, assuming he hadn't heard her correctly.

"Huh?"

"Take a seat. Here." She repeated the imperative. Dick cautiously left the windowsill and settled in her chair. "Now, heads are never circular, they're oval shaped." She began, then looked at him expectantly when he didn't move. He looked up at her, his eyebrows drawn into a quizzical frown. She sighed, pretending to be exasperated, but she was only playing really. "Come along, chop chop." She said, channelling Mrs. Travers' no-nonsense attitude. She slid a blank piece of paper in front of him then passed him the pencil she had been toying with. "Heads are never circular, they're oval shaped." She repeated, gently tapping the paper for good measure. Dick finally realised what she was talking about, and with one more hesitant look up at her, he began to put pencil to paper. "So, sketch an oval that tapers down at the bottom." He did so, his lip caught between his teeth as he concentrated. "There you go." Charlotte said encouragingly as he completed her instruction. "Now, draw a line down the centre. Then cut it in half, and another one here." She leaned over his shoulder, tracing her finger across the page to show him where to draw. "This is where you start drawing the nose here." Dick's concentration was swaying worryingly between the beginnings of his picture and the feeling of Charlotte's hand on his shoulder. She was so close, he could feel her curls brushing his neck and her soft voice was close to his ear. "Divide the bottom quarter in half again. This is where you put the bottom of the lips." As Richard dutifully followed her teachings, he struggled not to think of her own lips. He could remember every single second of their kiss, as if he could replay it frame by frame in his head. He wondered if she thought about it as often as he did. "Now the eyes." Said Charlotte, completely unaware of Dick's inner turmoil. "Eyes are basically almond-shaped, but really they come in all shapes and sizes so it doesn't really matter." Dick looked up at her then and she was surprised by how close he was. Whilst his dark eyes darted over her face, she took a chance and let her gaze drop to his lips.

Charlotte had always been a sensible person, consistently taking the most pragmatic and realistic path. She had always been that way, even as a little girl. But now, without even realising it, she had encountered a threat to this pragmatism, and his name was Richard Sherman. The smaller, barely indulged part of her brain that dealt with her few impulsive acts was screaming far louder than its much larger, more rational counterpart. For a split second, she considered dashing the consequences of her actions, grabbing the musician by the lapels and kissing him with all her might, but fortunately for her, Dick hummed thoughtfully and turned away again.

"A little rounder, I think." He said, more to himself than Charlie. The artist herself was so busy trying to get her breathing back to normal that she didn't notice Dick adding final, unaided details to his drawing. She did notice, however, his tongue poking out of the side of his mouth in concentration and only just about managed to stop herself from giggling. "There." He said finally, dropping his pencil on the desk with a flourish. Charlotte looked down at the end result and let out a surprise laugh.

"That's really quite good." She told him, carefully picking up the paper for a closer inspection.

"You sound surprised." Dick griped, looked comically offended, then he grinned to let her know he was only joking. Charlotte looked away from his slightly wobbly drawing of a woman's face to smile at him.

"You are obviously a man of many talents." She told him, and again, Dick felt pride bubble in his chest. She was probably humouring him, the picture wasn't that good. The eyes weren't exactly symmetrical and the nose was a little squashed, but it was the closest he'd ever come to a passable drawing. Charlotte titled her head ever so slightly as she studied the picture. "Who is she?" She asked quietly. Dick gave a nervous laugh and looked down at the floor shyly.

"She's, uh... She's you." He mumbled. Charlotte's jaw dropped, much to her own embarrassment, and she stumbled over her words.

"Me?" She gawked at the musician, then back at the drawing. "But she's..." The woman  _had_  looked familiar, but she would never have guessed that those were her own eyes staring back at her. She should have noticed really, the final details he'd made were quite obvious to her now that she knew. He'd given the lady a head full of curls just like her own, and he'd even attempted her eye liner, the perfect wings making her eyes more prominent. She didn't know what to say. His small gesture had really touched her, and for some reason, her eyes began to feel a little hot, as if she were about to cry. "I don't... Suddenly I'm..." After a moment, she shook her head, pulling herself together with practised ease. "Thank you." She murmured, the corners of her red lips lifting. She passed it back to him and asked, "Will you sign it?" Dick chuckled, but did what she asked. He quickly scribbled his name at the bottom of the page and handed it back to her. Then Charlotte turned away to contemplate her crowded wall, her finger tapping her chin pensively.

Richard studied her as she moved, and as always, was enraptured by her celerity. She stretched right up to untack certain pictures and place them elsewhere, shuffling the multitude of papers around so that there was enough room for his drawing. He didn't think it was worth all the trouble she was going through, but his mouth felt like it was glued shut as he watched her move. She pulled out a final pin from one drawing and tucked the paper under her arm as she replaced it with Dick's artwork. "There." She breathed, stepping back to stand beside him. "Perfect." Dick let out a quiet laugh as he stood up and leaned back against the desk as she was doing.

"I'm honoured to make the Wall of Fame." He told her, accepting her thoughtful token with alacrity. Charlotte hummed, then realised she still had a drawing tucked under her arm. She tutted and stood up again to put it back, glancing at the drawing as she did so. What she saw made her freeze. Dick made a concerned noise when she stopped mid-stride. And had her back to him, so he couldn't see the paper in her hands or how impossibly wide her eyes were.

"Charlie?" He called softly, tentatively taking a step closer. He almost fell backwards in surprise when she suddenly wheeled around, her lips beginning to part into a smile.

"Richard, I've had an idea." She stated. Dick looked from the wild haze in her eyes to the paper, then back up again.

"Uh oh." He muttered. Charlotte ignored his comment and began to explain.

"Do you remember what Mrs. Travers said to Walt that time? She said: 'You think Mary Poppins has come to save the children?'" She twisted her mouth, trying to remember exactly what had happened that day when the author had flung their script right out of the window. "It was a little while ago now, but I remember being confused about it." Dick seemed to recall what she was referring to.

"Yeah, me too." He agreed, shaking his head in bewilderment. "If she's not saving the kids, who's she saving?"

"Exactly!" Charlotte cried, brandishing her drawing. She was beginning to get excited now. She could feel her idea growing, she hoped it would change their situation so that everything would be alright. Charlie took a step closer to him, so close that he could see the fire in her hazel eyes. " _Who_  is she saving?" She asked him, hoping that he would grasp what she was referring to. The excitement of finally understanding Mrs. Travers and why she had been so hesitant throughout the past few weeks was too much for just one person to bear. When Dick didn't reply, his mouth hanging open in confusion, Charlotte shook her head. "Richard, the children are fine, they're perfectly happy. Their mother too, she leads the life she's always wanted." She took a deep breath, trying desperately to rein in her excitement before it got the better of her and she started to skip around the room and down the corridor. "But there's someone we're forgetting." She murmured, raising her eyebrows pointedly. Dick glanced from left to right, then back to her, only looking more baffled.

"... Admiral Boom?" He hazarded a guess. Charlotte compressed her frustrated groan, and instead reached out and lightly hit his shoulder.

"No, silly." She scolded him, and Dick a show of rubbing the spot where she'd tapped him. Finally giving in, she let her smile break out into a grin and said, "Mary Poppins hasn't come to save the children, she-" There was a sudden, loud knock on the door and it swung open to reveal Don, breathless and impatient.

"Guys, we need you." He said simply, but there was enough frustration to his tone for them to know just how dire the situation really was. Dick straightened up, his hands sliding into his pockets out of habit.

"Oh, okay." He said, then looked back at Charlotte, who felt like she'd just been on the verge of the greatest revelation since the apple had fallen on Newton's head. "Tell me about it later, okay?" He said, smiling apologetically before he followed Don out of the door and back towards the rehearsal room. Charlotte sighed and dropped her hands dejectedly.

"Yes, okay." She murmured to herself. Feeling utterly deflated, she turned back to the wall and studied the many faces that stared back at her. The one that stood out to her the most was one of the first coloured drawings she had done of the leading lady herself, Mary Poppins. The magical nanny's eyes seemed to follow her around the room, and somehow, she drew strength from seeing her. Mary had been a comfort to her as a child and she still was now. Squaring her shoulders, Charlotte raised her chin at the drawing. "Don't worry, ma'am. I'll see to it that they understand." She assured Poppins. Then she swiftly tacked the drawing that had shown her the way back onto the wall before she ran after her friends.

When she entered the rehearsal room, the boys were all slouched in armchairs around her table. They were talking in low voices, and the room was so gloomy she almost didn't see them. It was strange to see the music room in that way. Usually it was so bright and full of life, but now it seemed to reflect the mood of its faithful inhabitants.

"Do you think she'll leave?" Dick was asking his brother and Don nervously. They all looked up when she entered the room, but it was Don who pulled out a chair for her. She thanked him quietly and sat down, Bob to her left, Don to get right and Dick across from her. He smiled at her faintly and she loyally returned it.

"She won't leave." Don replied for Bob, who was rubbing his temples in frustration. He couldn't believe that just a few weeks ago he had actually been looking forward to making this picture. Exasperation had followed soon after Mrs. Travers arrived, but now he found himself longing for the days when she had simply hated them, and there was no deeper ravine of emotion to try and comprehend. "Not over this." Dick looked unconvinced.

"She seemed pretty upset." He noted, and Bob almost laughed at the innocent way his brother had described Mrs. Travers' mood. Charlotte sighed, her gaze dropping to the desk. She toyed uselessly with a scrap of paper, trying desperately to think of a way out of their situation. She had the answer, and she would tell them her thoughts in due course, but what point was there coming up with an idea when she had no way of carrying it out? The stillness of the room was interrupted by the rehearsal room door swinging open, and to their surprise, Disney walked in. They all sat up in their chairs, like soldiers standing to attention. Walt put his hands on his waist, fixing them all with his steely gaze.

"Guys, we gotta fix this." He said, his eyes moving across the table so that he looked at each of them in turn. Don nodded, standing up from his seat.

"Yes, sir. But how?" He asked, shaking his head slowly in despair. What could they possibly do to help Mrs. Travers? What could they do to make her happy? They had tried for so long, and nothing had worked. If they couldn't make her smile before, how could they even begin to think about attempting it now? Bob grunted and picked miserably at a stray thread on his jacket. They were all standing now apart from him, but they knew it was due to his injury and not out of disrespect.

"She's given us nothing this whole time and suddenly she springs this on us." He muttered. He was right, her outburst today had been completely out of the blue, but they had all seen that there wasn't just anger behind her stern eyes.

"Hey, now. There's clearly something we're missing." Charlotte put in softly, for once not feeling embarrassed when all eyes turned to her. She shrugged her shoulders a little. "You saw how sad she looked." Dick looked down at the table and chewed the inside of his cheek. It had been hours since Mrs. Travers' departure, but he still couldn't come up with an idea. What were they going to do?

"Mrs. Travers is our guest. I don't want to let her down and I know you don't either." Walt said calmly, hoping to inspire some sort of stroke of genius from his four clever employees, but to no avail.

"But what'll we do?" Dick asked, looking about as lost as they all felt. There was silence for a moment as they tried to think of a plausible way to make things right. Don was tapping his pencil against the table as his mind churned. It was starting to annoy Charlie, and she was just about to ask him to stop when his hand froze, his eyes growing wide.

"The kite." He whispered, so quiet that none of them heard him properly.

"What?" Charlotte asked, narrowing her eyes at the writer. Don shook his index finger, his idea beginning to spark and catch alight.

"What did she say?" He looked up at them, and they could practically see the cogs turning in his head. "She hates how cruel Mr. Banks is to his kids, right?"

"Right." They all replied as one. His words made Charlotte's heart leap. She suddenly remembered what she had been about to tell Dick before Don had interrupted them. The writer was beginning to nod, his smile growing into a wild grin.

"I know what we've gotta do." He told them excitedly. Whilst all eyes were on Don, Charlotte silently picked up his abandoned pencil and began to scribble a note on the scrap of paper she had been fiddling with.

"It's that easy, huh?" Asked Bob sceptically, his eyebrows raised at the writer. Don sniffed, straightening his tie which had been hanging loose around his neck before his bright idea.

"Actually, yes." Charlotte slipped the note across the table to Dick, hoping that no one else would see now that Don was beginning to formulate an idea. "It's gonna take a little time, but..." He paused, making sure that his idea was a good one and he wasn't just running with the first thing he thought of to get them out of the hole they were in. "I think we can save this. I think we can make Mrs. Travers happy." Bob snorted, but he was beginning to smile too.

"I'd pay good money to see that." He said to Walt, who chuckled.

"Actually," Said Disney after a moment. "I've had an idea about that." Charlotte only half listened to the conversation that Walt and Bob shared as she watched Dick pick up her note and unfold it carefully. He glanced at her before he read her hurried words, his dark eyes scanning the scrap of paper rapidly. When he was finished, he slowly looked up at her, his eyes wide.

Charlotte was exhausted, she hadn't slept properly in days. She was terribly sad, what with Mrs. Travers, her upcoming departure, and the fact that soon the man in front of her would be just a memory, but still she felt hopeful. Don had an idea that could turn things around for them, and she'd possibly cracked why Mrs. Travers had been so uncooperative over the past weeks. From the look Dick was giving her, it was a good theory. All those emotions were welling up inside of her and she could hardly bear it, but then Dick closed his gaping mouth and slowly nodded at her. Without saying a word, he made her chest clench and her jaw set. She was going to get through it, they were all going to get through it. The others hadn't noticed their silent exchange, Bob was too busy making bets with Walt about an idea the film maker had, and Don was writing down his latest addition to the script as if his life depended on it.

"So, Don, you got something?" Dick called, his eyes never leaving Charlie, who was smiling at him so beautifully across the table.

"I think so." Replied the writer eagerly. "Just, uh... Give me a second." With everyone distracted, Dick walked around to the other side of the table and spoke in a hushed voice to Charlie.

"I think you're right." He told her, raising the note that was still clutched tightly in his hand. Charlotte had never felt such a surge of relief in all her life.

"You do?" She got no verbal reply, but the musician did nod, his smile bright enough to light the room. It wasn't the high approbation she had been expecting from the man who was usually so easily excited, but it would suit her just fine.

She thought about her office and how at that hour, it would most certainly be lit by the moonlight pouring in through the window. She pictured the rainbow of colours that were splattered around the room and the hundreds of drawings that took up an entire wall. She thought of one drawing in particular, now pinned right at the heart of all the others, the drawing that had given her all the answers. That drawing of Mr. Banks would now and forever be in her heart, and she and her friends would do everything in their power to save him.


	12. Chapter 12

The ring of the telephone was like a shrill scream, disturbing the quiet of the night. A hand fumbled blearily in the dark, reaching for the phone that sat on the bedside table. The handset was clumsily knocked off its stand for the sole purpose of stopping the ear-splitting noise, rather than out of interest for who was calling. With her eyes still firmly shut, Charlotte groaned and raised the phone to her ear.

"Hello?" She croaked. Whoever it was that had the  _audacity_  to call her in the middle of the night better have a bloody good reason for it. If they didn't, she would expect a tremendous apology and then a quick, compunctious explanation for why she had been woken up. Instead of this, what she got was a familiar, low voice that didn't sound sorry in the slightest.

"Hello, gorgeous." Charlotte frowned, groaned again and cracked her eyes open. Sleep obscured her vision, but she could just about make out the hotel room's meagre furnishings. It should've been too dark to see anything, a hint at how early in the morning it was, but moonlight spilled through the window, giving the room an almost eerie glow.

"Richard?" She mumbled curiously. She felt as if she were still half asleep, and couldn't be certain if she was dreaming or not. She tried to concentrate, forcing her sleep-addled brain to wake up so that she could question the musician at great length, starting with why he had felt the need to ring her at that hour, but first, she let out a long yawn. "What time is it?" She heard her friend chuckle.

"God only knows." He replied, although he didn't sound nearly as exhausted as she did, which worried her. He sounded clear and level, a stark contrast to her creaking voice, although his words had a low, soothing quality to them which she enjoyed immensely. But his alertness could mean that he hadn't slept at all, supported by the fact that he'd thought it would be a good idea to ring her in the middle of the night. Then a thought struck Charlie that gave her brain the bolt of energy it needed to fully awaken.

"What..? How did you get this number?" She murmured, afraid that if she didn't keep her voice down then she would interrupt both the stillness of the room and the sleep of the hotel's other inhabitants. "This is the second time you've called me here and I don't remember giving you the telephone number." Again, Richard laughed. Of all the things to question him about after being woken up in the middle of the night and she chose that. He was lying in bed but, as Charlie had correctly assumed, he couldn't sleep. His mind was turning over and over, making any hope of getting his full eight hours impossible. You see, he'd had an idea.

"I know the name of your hotel, I asked to be directed to you. It's not rocket science, darlin'." He told her, then instantly regretted how patronising he'd sounded. He was about to take it back when Charlotte gave a huff of laughter.

"Shut up, I was asleep ten seconds ago." She grumbled, then she yawned again for good measure. She rubbed a hand over her tired face and closed her eyes, getting herself settled again. She'd quickly decided that if she was going to be awake at that hour, she might as well be comfortable. "Why're you calling?" She asked softly, finally getting to the crux of the matter. Dick, whose home was not that far from Charlotte's hotel, began to smile excitedly.

"I had an idea. About the end of the movie." He told her, and she noted, despite the fact that her head might has well have been full of wet newspaper for all her brain was worth at that hour, that he had made quite a strange decision by choosing to call her.

"Why are you telling me?" She asked, putting her confusion into words. "Shouldn't you have called your brother, or Don?" She gave another huff of laughter, though meanwhile she was struggling to keep her eyelids from getting too heavy. "I am but a humble artist after all." Dick smiled to himself, all the while studying the notebook that rested on his knees. He'd had an idea, yes, but it was incomplete. He'd been so excited about the new song that he'd needed to tell someone as soon as possible, and he'd be kidding himself if he said there was anyone he would rather talk to than her.

"I wanted to tell  _you_." He told her, his soft tone strengthened by his insistence. In spite of her weariness, Charlotte's heart leapt at his words, and she silently damned him and his thoughtfulness. There was silence then, and for a moment, Charlie thought that he must've hung up on her. After a contemplative pause, Dick said, "But... Now I've decided I'd rather not." Charlotte's eyes opened wide and she sat up in bed, leaning her weight on one elbow.

"What? Why?" She demanded, sounding much more alert now. Not only was she desperately curious about his idea, but she was now also cross that he had woken her up in the middle of the night for nothing. Dick seemed to realise it too, and his reply was hurried and apologetic.

"Because it's a good idea and I want it to be a surprise." Fortunately for him, she didn't question it further, so he assumed that his reasoning had been satisfactory. He quickly thanked God that Charlotte was way too sleepy to be angry with him. He smiled to himself, tapping his pencil against the notepad he was scribbling in. "Plus, I wanna see the look on your face when you hear it." Charlotte made a thoughtful sound, settling back onto her pillows. He heard her let out a long, contented sigh, and suddenly felt like he couldn't breathe. But he shouldn't think like that, he shouldn't think about  _her_  like that.

"Well, why don't you come over then and you can tell me all about it?" She suggested, raising her eyebrows and smirking, even if he wasn't there to see it. Her low, enticing voice almost made him feel faint and he felt his face start to burn at her insinuation. He gritted his teeth, swallowing nervously. Then, once he'd gotten his bawdiest thoughts under control again, he cleared his throat.

"You're a smooth talker, Miss. Charlotte." He replied, trying to play it cool. Oh, she loved it when he called her that. He had a hundred nicknames for her, most of which she didn't even notice herself responding to. She'd never had a nickname before coming to L.A, but now it would be strange to live without. Charlotte laughed softly, and the sound brought a smile to his face. It was nice to know that they were comfortable enough so that they could talk to each other like that, even if it did leave him feeling a little hot under the collar.

"So you're  _not_  going to tell me?" Charlie summarised. She wasn't exactly annoyed, but it would have been nice to know what he was planning. Dick shook his head.

"Nope." He began to write again. Ideas were buzzing around inside his brain, and it was difficult to untangle them all and get them down on paper. The late (or rather early) hour wasn't helping much either.

"So I was woken up at this ungodly hour for no reason?"

"Yep." Charlotte sighed and Dick felt guilty. It was pretty mean of him to wake her up and then change his mind, but it would all be worthwhile in the end, he just needed time. "Well, you got to hear my charming voice so it's not all bad." He tried to make a joke, hoping that she wasn't so dejected that she wouldn't find it funny. Luckily, Charlotte wasn't one to hold a grudge and she pouted her lips thoughtfully.

"That  _is_  true." She agreed, then they both chuckled. There was another considerable pause wherein they both simply lay there, just listening to each other breathe slowly in and out. It was an intimate moment, the likes of which Charlotte had never experienced before. It felt like he was right there next to her, close enough to touch. Her bed suddenly felt a lot bigger and the room so much darker. Her grip tightened around the telephone and she pressed the speaker against her ear. She wanted him to be with her, now and forever, but that was impossible. She felt empty and when she finally spoke again, her voice was hoarse for an entirely different reason. "Richard?"

"Yes, Charles?" She forced a smile, even if there was no one there to pretend for. He sounded much more relaxed now and a tiny part of her, a part that was often ignored, told her that it was because of her.

"I'm glad you called." She whispered, finally giving into her exhaustion and closing her eyes. They stung sharply, a sign that she really should be getting back to sleep soon.

"Even though it's three o'clock in the morning?" Charlotte smiled to herself, then let out yet another long yawn.

"Even though." She agreed. Dick couldn't help but think she sounded quite distant and wondered what he'd said to make her feel that way. He was lying down now, just as he imagined she was, and his mind and body had relaxed considerably. Usually, talking to Charlotte either made him all kinds of nervous, or made him melt into an ease that he wasn't used to. He could never be sure which way he was going to feel, but tonight, she had managed to calm him down and had taken away all of his fears and anxieties about the days to come. "I don't know," She murmured, hoping that her tired voice wasn't so quiet that she went unheard. "I think that sometimes I feel quite lonely, and you make me feel... Less alone." Dick gave a soft groan, almost like he was warning her.

"Oh, Charlotte, you say things like that, you make a guy wanna say things he really shouldn't." He mumbled, reaching up a hand and rubbing his forehead, both out of exhaustion and frustration. It wasn't fair for her to say things like that, but then again, it wasn't really fair for him to call her at three o'clock in the morning either. Her answer surprised him, as it so often did.

"The feeling is mutual." She replied gently, making a knot tie in the pit of Dick's stomach. Uncertainty flooded his mind. She knew what he meant. She'd understood the meaning behind his words and she had expressed that same meaning back to him. Did that mean... That must mean that she... Dick opened his mouth to say something,  _anything_ , but his mind had gone blank. He felt like he'd been struck by lightning and felt sick right to the core. Slowly, he got his breathing back to normal and shut his gaping mouth. Swallowing hard, he thought of a thousand different ways he might respond. None of them seemed adequate. Instead, he turned his head and looked out the window. On the other end of the line, Charlotte was unaware of the turmoil she had thrust him into. Dick was lost for words, but as usual, he found solace in the beauty of the world around him, the beauty that she helped him see. He had his second great idea of the night.

"Are your curtains closed?" Came his out of the blue response. Charlotte turned her head to look at her window and shook her head.

"No."

"Can you see the moon?" She smiled, gazing at the pale, ethereal circle in the night sky.

"Yes."

"So can I." Dick laughed softly, keeping his eyes on the sky above. "We're looking at the same thing at the same time. Kinda like we're together." Charlotte felt her heart swell, suddenly feeling a hundred times better.

"How is it that you always know exactly what to say?" She murmured, turning away from her window to stare up at the ceiling. She could practically hear Richard's smug expression.

"It's a gift, I can't explain it." He replied. Once again, they had lifted the situation, transforming the solemn, tired mood into a cheery conversation between two friends in the dead of night, but they both knew that they couldn't keep doing this. One day, the façade they keep putting up would crumble. Charlotte leaned into the telephone, feeling her eyes beginning to close without her consent. She was too tired now, they'd run out of time.

"Thank you, Richard." She breathed, trying to put everything that she felt into three simple words. She hoped that he understood just how much he meant to her and how thankful she was for everything that he did. At his end, Dick smiled too.

"See you tomorrow, sweetheart." He replied. By tomorrow, he meant in a few hours, but they were both too tired to quibble over trivialities.

"Bye." Charlotte said, then she stretched out her arm and put the phone back on its stand. Likewise, Dick put down the phone, then moved his notepad and pencil onto his bedside table. He quickly got changed for bed, and slid under the covers. Charlotte had soothed him into sleep, her sweet words and gentle tone mollifying him like no one else could. Charlotte herself let out a long, heavy breath and let herself sink back into her comfortable bed. She felt as if she were lying on a cloud, and knew she must've been moments away from sleep. Her last thoughts before she drifted off again were of Richard, his wonderful voice, and the moon that they both shared.

* * *

Only a few hours later, Charlotte was blearily walking across the lobby of her hotel. She pulled her jacket around her just before she pushed open the heavy brass doors, but her tired body didn't make it easy. She had gotten a little more sleep after she'd put down the phone, but it didn't feel nearly enough. She used her free hand to cover up her wide yawn whilst the other hitched her handbag up onto her shoulder. It was another bright day in Burbank, she doubted that it ever rained there, and the air was hot and heavy. The temperature was only going to increase later in the day, so she wasn't all that pleased about being stuck in her stuffy office. She was brainstorming ways to cool down her heavily insulated room when she thought she heard someone calling her name. There were crowds of people passing her on the street and from the top of the steps to the hotel she could see everything. She frowned, scanning the masses for whoever it was that was calling her. Then to her surprise, she spotted Richard standing by the edge of pavement, waving wildly up at her. Charlotte titled her head to one side, staring at him in shock.

"Richard?" The musician grinned in that excited, boundless way of his and waved her over. Charlotte raised an eyebrow, but walked over to him and the taxi he was standing next to. Once she reached him, he gave a low bow, sweeping his arm grandly.

"Good morning, your highness!" He cried once he'd straightened up again.

"What are you doing here?" Charlotte laughed, shaking her head fondly at his antics. Dick looked guilty and dropped his gaze to his shoes.

"Well, I felt real bad about waking you up in the middle of the night, so..." He patted the roof of the taxi and puffed out his chest proudly. "I called for a golden carriage to take you to work." Charlotte couldn't help but smile, no one had ever done anything this thoughtful for her before. But he hadn't had much sleep either, and his gift meant that he'd been up even earlier than her. He must be exhausted.

"Richard, that's so kind." Charlotte murmured, although she was consumed with worry for her friend. "Thank you." Dick's eyes had not lost their shine and his sweet smile only grew as he gazed at her. Then he suddenly snapped out of it and held up on finger.

"Ah, but this luxury, one time deal only gets better and better." He boasted, adopting the voice of a car salesman giving his spiel. He raised his right hand, which had until then been hidden behind his back. "Your Majesty's breakfast, delivered all the way from Paris!" He held up a small paper bag, which she recognised was from the bakery down the street, a place she frequented more than could possibly be considered healthy. She had told him all about it one day, but she hadn't thought he would remember it. Charlotte gasped and carefully took the paper bag. Peering inside, she saw he'd bought her a pain au chocolat, her favourite pastry from the bakery. She looked back up at him to find him watching her intently. He was just glad that she had accepted his apology, but the kiss on the cheek that he received was an unforeseen yet delightful bonus.

"You're sweet." Charlotte whispered, and she gave him that incomparable look, that one that made him feel like the most important man in the whole wide world. He loved that look, he would miss it. He would miss her. Instead of opening his mouth and confessing all the things he had wanted to tell her since the moment he met her, he forced a grin and gestured to himself.

"I'm handsome too." Charlotte let out a loud laugh that made a few of the many people on the busy street turn their heads. She put out her hand out and squeezed his shoulder, still chuckling.

"Yes, you are." She agreed, making his grin a little more real. Then she nodded to the cab and grabbed his hand. "Come on then." They quickly got in, not wanting to be late for work. Charlie had been about to tell the driver where to go, but stopped when she saw his reflection in the rear-view mirror. "No way." She breathed. Jimmy twisted around in his seat and grinned at her.

"Good morning, your ladyship." He greeted her brightly. Charlie slowly turned to look at Richard, who gave her an awkward smile.

"It wasn't on purpose." He promised. Charlotte huffed and turned back to the terrible driver who seemed to be haunting her.

"Are you the  _only_  taxi driver in this city?" She grumbled as she put on her seatbelt. Jimmy wriggled his eyebrows and looked her up and down.

"If you want me to be, baby." He said lewdly. Charlotte's eye widened and she was about to berate the insolent boy, but Dick got there faster.

"Just drive, Jimmy."

* * *

Charlotte placed her hand flat against the door to the Animation Department, but a frustrated shout stopped her from going in. Feeling both nervous and concerned, she stayed her hand. She didn't move for a few seconds. She needed to talk to McLaren Stewart about a certain piece in the film so she'd ventured upstairs. She was straining to hear what was going on inside the department, but the voices were muffled and she could only catch a few words. Eventually, her curiosity got the better of her and its influence on her actions was far greater than that of her nerves. She pushed open the door and poked her head through, not wanting to enter if she was interrupting something.

"McLaren?" She called, her keen eyes sweeping the room for the Head of Animation. She heard a short, sharp grunt, which finally alerted her of Mac's whereabouts. He was sitting in the centre of the room and she would've been able to see him if it weren't for the mountains of paper that engulfed the room.

"Hiya, Charlie!" He greeted her as warmly as he usually did. "How you doin'?" She warily watched him stand up, grunting and leaning on a nearby desk as he did so, before she answered.

"Very well, thank you." She replied absently. She had removed her attention from her friend and co-worker and had instead focused on the piles after piles of paper that surrounded them. What had happened in there? It looked as if a tornado had hit the room. It looked even messier than usual, and that was saying something. "And yourself?"

"Absolutely dreadful." Mac grumbled, dusting off his hands and glaring at the mountains of paper. Charlotte sighed and pushed the door open the rest of the way, finally stepping into the room.

"What's the matter now?" She asked wearily as she manoeuvred around the piles of paper until she stood by her fellow artist in the centre of the room. Mac stared at her as if she'd grown a second head.

"Look at the place!" He cried, gesturing wildly to the jungle of paper that had sprung up overnight. Charlotte placed her hands on her hips and hummed as she surveyed the room. Then she raised an eyebrow.

"In all honesty, it looks exactly the same as it always does." She said unhelpfully. McLaren narrowed his eyes and almost responded to what he felt was an unwarranted comment, but instead he sighed and turned away from her.

"It's a mess!" He cried, gazing miserably at the chaotic room. He began to grab squares of paper off random piles and studied them for a second, before throwing them onto one of three other piles. As always, his system was incomprehensible to anyone but himself, and Charlotte was quite sure that was why he and his animators had gotten into this mess in the first place. "I can't find a damn thing. We've got a list of things to do that's as long as my arm, but we can't find anything!" Charlotte rolled her eyes, she couldn't help but think he was being a little overdramatic about the whole situation. She stepped over another pile and joined him in the centre of the room.

"What  _is_  all this?" She muttered, gathering up a few sheets of paper in her hands. She realised that they were squares of storyboard art, some from sequences that she recognised and some that she didn't.

"It's a combination of old pictures, future pictures and 'Mary'." Mac explained shortly. That was when Charlotte realised what had happened here. McLaren's work ethic was good, but his organisational skills were lacking, and now all the work that he and his animators had produced had finally gotten too much for him. Perhaps he'd suddenly felt inspired, and had decided to try and order his chaotic office. Or perhaps, and this was the much more likely option, he'd accidentally knocked over one of the many piles of paper that swarmed the office and had finally seen the need for coordination in his workplace. McLaren glanced at Charlie and saw that she had a few sheets in her hands. He swiftly grabbed them from her and threw them onto their designated piles. Charlotte huffed, certain that there was no need to snatch from her, and McLaren looked apologetic, though only briefly. "It also represents my current state of mind." He added, which she thought was fair and gave a conceding nod. Charlie herself was painstakingly organised and so seeing the mess Mac had made for himself was starting to her feel uncomfortable, but she tried to make light of the situation.

"Oh, come on, it can't be  _that_  bad." She offered, trying to sound as optimistic as one could whilst surrounded by a sea of unkempt paper. She was sure that it wouldn't take too long to sort out. How much of the old art did they actually hold onto? Surely he was overreacting. But Mac raised his eyebrows at her, then to prove his point, he randomly selected one of the unorganised piles and drew out a piece of paper. He studied it for a moment, before giving a triumphant cry and waving it in her face.

"Look at this! 'Lady and the Tramp'! That movie came out six years ago!" Charlotte peered at the little square of paper and recognised the two dogs from the movie sharing a plate of spaghetti.

"Aw." She breathed. It was sweet that they kept all of their work, even when they had no need for it anymore, but if they didn't keep it organised, then there really was no point in holding on to it. Especially if the piles of paper were eventually going to burst and seep across the room. Her fascination at the little drawing was not what McLaren had wanted and he quickly took back the picture and threw it onto the biggest of the three piles. Charlotte sighed when he glared at her. "Do you want help?" She offered, one again sounding like a mother talking to a petulant child. McLaren clasped his hands together and raised them as if begging.

"Desperately." He replied, making Charlotte chuckle. She took off her jacket, knowing that all the work she was going to do would gradually make the room feel even hotter than it already was in there.

"Alright, then I'll help." She told him simply, and using her hands like shovels, she dug a large wodge of paper out from the closest pile. Mac sighed, feeling his fraying nerves began to stitch themselves back together.

"Thank you." He breathed, wiping a hand across his forehead and letting out a whoosh of air. It was dreadfully hot in the Animation Department, but if they worked quickly, they'd have it all sorted by lunch.

They did work diligently, taking the small sheets of paper from the unorganised heaps and placing them in their corresponding piles. The paper was spread across the office like a thick blanket of snow, but they kept going, never stopping, unless it was for a quick breather. They'd flung open all the windows and drawn the shutters at the perfect angle do that they had some shade. Every so often, a gentle breeze would drift in, and they would both sigh contentedly. The three piles that McLaren had begun the construction of before Charlotte had arrived were named as such: 'We Don't Need It', 'We Definitely Need That', and 'Oh, God, That's From 'Mary'! I've Been Looking For That!' Eventually, they began to clear a space. Charlotte was working away at a mountain of paper that she had originally thought to have covered a desk, but now it appeared to have buried some sort of strange apparatus. Once her excavation was complete, she saw that it was a camera-like machine, supported by a wooden platform, in front of which there was a wide board, almost like an easel. She frowned at it, not quite sure what it was doing there.

"I've unearthed a machine." She finally called to Mac, after giving up trying to guess what it was. The animator poked his head out from behind another large pile across the room and screwed up his eyes, trying to see what she was talking about.

"Oh," He realised. "That's just one of the rotoscopes." Then he disappeared again. Charlotte looked between the obscure contraption and her friend.

"One of the what?" McLaren gave a heavy sigh and finally dug himself out of his heap of paper. He managed to find a safe path through the jungle that still surrounded them and joined Charlie by the machine.

"Rotoscopes. But we, uh, we mostly just call 'em 'rotos'." Charlotte reached out and carefully poked at the contraption.

"What is it?" She asked, her voice full of wonder. Her nimble fingers slid over the machine, trying to figure out how it worked just by touch.

"Well, that's how we animate the pictures." Mac told her, not really sure why anyone would be that interested in the now somewhat dated apparatus, but Charlotte's excitement was clear on her face.

"Really?" She gushed, looking up at him with awe. When he'd first met her, the day after she'd arrived, Charlotte had been friendly, but she had been quite serious, always putting her work before anything else. Now, only a few weeks later, the change in her was obvious. She was the same woman, but she had relaxed considerably, and now wore her heart on her sleeve for everyone to see. Mac had decided that this was all because of Dick Sherman's influence, but he didn't dare say anything to either of them.

"Yeah, sure!" He reached forward and brushed a little of the settled dust off the old machine. "We use it to draw over live-action film." Charlotte nodded keenly, hanging on his every word. Mac was surprised by her enthusiasm, so he continued, trying to make himself as clear as possible. "We trace over the scenes of the actors frame by frame. You know, the live-action versions of the scenes." He explained, then wriggled his eyebrows pointedly. "But you know all about that, am I right?" Charlotte's excited countenance receded fractionally, and she narrowed her eyes at the animator. He was of course referring to the Kissing Incident, which she had tried in vain to forget about, but it appeared that everyone in the company knew about it and they all seemed determined to antagonise her. Instead of addressing Mac's insinuation, and therefore letting him win, Charlotte turned back to the rotoscope and began to toy with it again.

"Tell me more." She asked of him, and McLaren gladly obliged.

"You trace objects to make a silhouette, then we can extract it from a scene to use on a different background." He scratched his head, whilst thinking back to the last time they'd used the rotos properly. It had been a long time, but he could remember it well. "We used it for 'Snow White', back when I was a strapping, young man. Now though, we mostly just use it to study human and animal body movement, rather than actual tracing." Charlotte beamed up at him, totally enchanted by the machinery. She found animation endlessly fascinating and she'd always wanted to study how it all worked. This was a part of history and it had been buried underneath a pile of storyboard art.

"How marvellous." She breathed, leaning in to take a closer look at the mechanism. McLaren raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"You like this kinda thing?" He asked. Her interest in the contraption had been unanticipated, Charlotte was staring at the machine as if it were love at first sight.

"Animation? Oh, yes, definitely. I've always found it terribly interesting, but I... No." She stopped herself with a tight smile, and turned back to the machine. When she didn't say anything more, Mac grew concerned. Her sudden change in emotion surprised him, it was rare for her to be so unsure of herself. Usually, she was controlled and precise, but now, it seemed that Charlotte had surprised herself, and she'd had to stop herself from talking. Mac frowned at the artist, who was carefully poking at the apparatus.

"What?" He asked, although he wasn't sure that he should push her if she really didn't want to talk about it. Charlotte shrugged, looking back to him but not quite meeting his eyes.

"I've never had the opportunity to pursue it." She told him quietly, then she patted the machine. "There aren't many of these sorts of things back home, so it looks like it's just illustrations for me." Mac was confused.

"I thought concept art was your thing." He said, but Charlie shook her head.

"Not usually. When I go back home, I'll have to go back to picture books." She sighed dolefully, giving a sad smile that twisted her mouth. "It's a shame, really. I'd love to have a go at this sort of thing." Mac felt his tough-guy exterior soften as he watched Charlotte's eyes dart about, pretending that it didn't bother her when really, it was one thing on the list of many that made it so difficult to leave. There were far more opportunities there, when she went back home, she'd be stuck in the same job, doing the same thing day after day. America and the Walt Disney Company were both so new and free, always moving forward. She would miss it all so much. She shook her head slightly, brushing away such miserable thoughts. She cleared her throat then looked around the department, which still looked a mess despite their best efforts. "Though, now I'm behind the scenes, the appeal has diminished slightly." She told Mac, raising her eyebrows pointedly. The animator chuckled and gently pushed her, making her laugh too.

They worked for a couple more hours before Charlotte decided she should probably get back to her own work. They'd managed to sort almost everything, only a few piles remained, but they were small enough to be managed by one person. Charlotte waved goodbye to Mac, thanking him, even if it would've been more appropriate for him to thank her. McLaren gave his goodbyes and watched her as she left the room. Charlie's words had resonated with him. She desperately wanted to work with animation, but the resources just weren't available back home. It was terrible that she'd have to go back to a life she found so mundane. McLaren spent the rest of his day clearing up his office, but his mind was busy trying to come up with a way to help the woman who had been so kind to him.

Charlotte closed the Animation Department door behind her, and was about to make her way towards her office, but she found there was someone in her way. A very small someone. A very small, sticky someone.

"Oh!" Charlie yelped. The little girl that stood in front of her seemed to have appeared out of thin air. She had dark, almost black hair, big blue eyes, and only just about came up to Charlotte's waist. The artist stared at the little girl, who didn't seem at all bothered by her shocked cry. "Hello..." She breathed uncertainly as she gawked at the small child. The little girl pulled the lollipop she'd been sucking out of her mouth with a loud pop and gave her a wide, gap-toothed smile.

"Hi!" She replied brightly. Still Charlotte stared down at the girl. How had she gotten in there? Why was she alone?

"What are you doing?" She asked dumbly, her voice still quite high from the shock. The little girl removed the sweet from her mouth again and simply said,

"Eating a lollipop." Charlotte sighed at the girl's reply. She didn't look that young, she must've been around six or seven, but she was still alone, in the middle of the animation department at the Walt Disney Studios. Surely it was dangerous for her to be wandering around on her own? But then, there was nothing there that could hurt her. She didn't have all that much experience with children, but she thought the best way to talk to her was as if she were another adult.

"Yes. I meant, what are you doing  _here_?" Again, the lollipop was removed before the girl spoke. Charlotte decided the distinctly sticky aura the girl had about her was because of the sweet.

"Exploring." She said simply. Charlotte nodded slowly.

"Alright." She murmured, her head turning to both ends of the corridor, hoping to spot the girl's parents. She was not nearly qualified enough to look after a young child, she'd never even spoken to anyone under the age of twenty. When she saw that they were the only ones in the corridor, Charlie turned back to the girl, starting to feel queasy. She leaned down, resting her hands on her knees, so that she was at her height. "Does your mum or dad work here?" She asked, hoping to find her parents as soon as was humanly possible. Fortunately, the little girl nodded.

"Uh huh. My daddy." She told her, taking a cavalier lick of her lollipop. She didn't seem at all worried about being on her own. Perhaps Charlotte was overreacting. Then again, she knew absolutely nothing about children. Was she old enough to be out by herself? She couldn't tell. She seemed fine, but then little girls are renowned for their cunning.

"Oh, alright. What's your daddy's name?" She pressed, hoping that she could swiftly deliver the girl then get back to her work in record time. Those hopes were dashed when the girl gave her a wide, sticky smile.

"You talk funny." She commented, then sniffed nonchalantly and went back to her sweet. Charlotte straightened up, feeling quite offended.

"I speak perfectly fine, thank you very much." She said defensively. The girl didn't seemed put off by Charlotte's affronted reply, in fact, she seemed to find it endearing. She raised her half-finished lollipop up to Charlotte, waving it about enticingly.

"Do you want a lick?" She asked her. Charlotte thought that was very kind of the little girl to offer, but the slimy treat was not one that she would ever find herself accepting.

"No, thank you." She said politely, trying to suppress her grimace. The girl seemed to realise Charlotte's hesitancy was due to the minimal aesthetic pleasure provided by her offered gift. She stuck her lollipop back in her mouth and began to dig through the large pocket on the front of her dress.

"I've got a spare one, if you want." She told Charlie as she rummaged around in the cavernous pocket, which wasn't unlike Mary Poppins' carpet bag. "Then you can have your own." She finally found what she'd been looking for and pulled out the spare lollipop. Charlotte saw no reason not to accept the gift, and eagerly unwrapped the lollipop.

"Thank you." She said brightly, popping the sweet into her mouth. "What's your name?" The girl seemed to stand up straighter and grinned.

"Laurie." She stated and Charlotte nodded, pointing her lollipop at the girl.

"Laurie, that's a lovely name." She told her, and the proud look on the girl's face made her smile. The name rang a faint bell, but she couldn't remember where she'd heard it before. Laurie cocked head to one side, her dark curls swinging about her shoulders.

"What's yours?" She asked. The artist stood up straight, mirroring the posture of the girl before her.

"Charlotte." She told her. Laurie stuck out a tiny, sticky hand and held it up to her.

"It's nice to meet you, Charlotte." She said politely, and Charlie gingerly took the girl's hand and shook it.

"It's nice to meet you too." She replied. She hadn't expected to make friends with the child, but there she was. This was turning into a very strange afternoon. "Laurie, does you dad know that you're wandering about all on your own?" She questioned as she watched the girl put her finished lolly stick back into her pocket and then pull out a gobstopper. Laurie grinned mischievously as she popped the hard candy into her mouth. The ball was nearly as big as her head, and Charlotte was impressed that she'd managed to get it all in.

"No."

"Would he be happy if he knew?" Finally, the girl looked ever so slightly guilty.

"No, probably not." She mumbled, looking down at her shoes, but then she perked up, as if an idea had struck her. "But it's safe here and Mr. Disney will look after me if I get in trouble." Charlotte nodded, the girl had a point.

"That  _is_  true." She agreed, but she knew that she couldn't just leave the girl wandering about on her own. She was sure it was perfectly safe, but she needed to be sure that Laurie would be returned to her father. "How about we find your dad together?" She suggested, hoping and praying that the girl would accept. Fortunately for her, Laurie seemed enthusiastic about the idea.

"Okay." She said, then looked up at her expectantly, waiting to hear Charlie's plan, but the artist didn't have a plan, she didn't think she'd actually get this far.

"Um..." She'd drew out the sound as she racked her brains, not entirely sure where to start. "Do you know where he is?" She asked lamely. Laurie seemed disappointed in her, and gave her a bit of a look.

"He's probably looking for me." She answered simply, her reply muffled by the aptly named gobstopper. Charlie frowned at the girl.

"How do you know that?"

"Because I ran away. Daddy's not fast." Laurie shrugged and wiped her nose on her sleeve. She didn't seem as anxious as Charlie did, perhaps that was a sign that she should calm down a bit. "He won't be mad, but it probably means I won't get any ice cream on the way home now." Again Charlotte wasn't sure what to say, but the absence of ice cream was certainly something she knew to be bad.

"Oh." Was all she said in reply. Laurie continued to stay cheery despite the knowledge that she wouldn't be getting her favourite treat.

"But that's okay," She assured Charlotte. "I've got a lot of candy in my pocket." To prove it to her, she opened up the pocket on the front of dress so that Charlotte could see the treasure trove inside. How she'd managed to stuff all of it in there, she would never know. She thought it best to ignore the way Laurie had so blatantly ignored the rules of psychics, and offered her hand for her to take.

"Come on, let's go find your dad. I bet he's worried sick."

* * *

The impossible had happened. Dick would have to remember to mark the date. Against all odds, they'd finally had a breakthrough. Mrs. Travers had made no mention of yesterday's events, so they'd thought it best to continue as if nothing had happened, although they tried to speak a little more carefully around the woman. They didn't want to push her or say anything that would provoke another outburst, so they had thought it best to avoid showing Mrs. Travers 'Sister Suffragette', what with her clear disdain for the movement. Instead, Bob had selected another of their finished tunes, and though much shorter, it had a soothing, sweet tone to it, and evidently, it had its desired effect, even on the cantankerous author. Mrs. Travers had listened quietly to 'Stay Awake', and when they were finished, she had smiled.

"Very good." She murmured, almost as if she couldn't believe it herself. "I like that one." Richard turned his head to Don to see that the writer's eyes were practically bulging out of his skull. Then he looked up at his brother, who wore exactly the same expression. He suddenly realised that no one had said anything for a good ten seconds and Mrs. Travers was looking at them all expectantly.

"Great! That's great!" He burst out, making the author raise her eyebrows ever so slightly. He felt embarrassed by his outburst, but the fact that Mrs. Travers had actually given them an honest to God compliment... He could barely contain his joy. His next move was now a default, he had to tell Charlotte, but they still had hours left with Mrs. Travers. He would have to wait until their next break. "That's great. Thank you. Wow." He shook his head in sheer disbelief and reshuffled their music. Perhaps she was in a good enough mood for them to show her 'Sister Suffragette' after all. He glanced at Bob, who looked wary but nodded all the same. Dick grinned and turned back to the author. "We'd like to show you another song, it's called 'Sister Suffragette'."

"Winifred, their mom, she sings it." Added Don. He flipped through his script, trying to find the right part. "Page... Thirteen I think?" Mrs. Travers hummed in agreement as she found the page he had suggested. She looked up, still as stiff and surly as ever, but now the boys allowed themselves to feel a little hopeful.

"Fine." She said plainly, and Dick took a deep breath to calm his nerves. They were quickly developing the idea that Don had come up with, which would save both the movie and Mrs. Travers. Their song was almost complete, but they didn't want to give anything away until it was perfect. For now, they would putter along, stepping on eggshells, until they could show Mrs. Travers what they'd created. With some luck, she'd love it and all their work wouldn't be for nought.

Hours passed quickly and Mrs. Travers tolerated the song, though only barely. That was enough for the boys, who were still reeling from the praise she'd given them about 'Stay Awake'. Pamela had long since left when Bob hurried into the rehearsal room, his face drawn with worry. Before they could ask what the matter was, the eldest Sherman heaved a long weary sigh.

"She's gone." He muttered reproachfully, and Richard and Don both groaned. It appeared the inevitable had happened. The studios were still busy, and though they had no reason to worry about her well-being, it was an awfully big place to lose a little girl.

* * *

Little did they know that Charlotte, though she had no knowledge of their hunt, was thinking exactly the same thing. The studios were an awfully big place to lose a little girl, but what she'd done that was so miraculous was that she'd managed to find a lost girl, then lose her again. Though she had no reason to take responsibility of Laurie, she had done so immediately and before her disappearing act, they'd become quite good friends. Or at least, she thought they had. She still knew absolutely nothing about children, but she did know it wasn't good to lose them, especially if they weren't yours. One minute she'd been there, and the next: poof! She'd suddenly disappeared. Though she had plenty of work to be getting on with and the day was slowly drawing to a close, Charlotte was running up and down corridors, searching for a six year old girl.

"Laurie?" She tried calling her, but of course, she got no reply. "Laurie!" She thought she heard a high pitched giggle to her left and turned on her heel, jogging down the hallway only to find it empty. She sighed wearily and put her hands on her hips. Where could she have got to? Suddenly, she heard a voice. It was distant, but she could definitely make out their words. They too were calling after the little girl. Oh, God. That must be Laurie's dad. She quickly prayed that he was a nice, forgiving man and that he would appreciate the lengths she was going to to find his little girl. She followed the stranger's cries through endless corridors until finally, they sounded close. He was just around the corner. Charlie fought to get her breath back and calm herself down. She must look a mess, she'd been running around after Laurie all day. That girl just did not get tired. She hurriedly straightened out her dress and tried to flatten her hair, then taking a deep breath, she stepped around the corner to talk to the man. It was as if someone, somewhere had been listening to her prayers. The man was not a stranger, he wasn't mean, and he certainly wasn't going to be cross with her. Charlotte frowned at him, her mouth hanging slightly open.

"Richard?" Though he was quite a distance from her, the musician jerked to a stop, as if the sudden shout had surprised him, but when he turned and saw it was her, his whole face lit up.

"Charlie, there you are!" He cried happily, and Charlotte tried to ignore the twist in her stomach that always happened when he looked at her like that. He began to make his way down the corridor towards her, his eyebrows drawn together quizzically. "I've been looking for you, where've you been?" Charlotte shook her head and let out a long, weary sigh.

"It's a long story." She told him. She was sure Dick would've questioned her further, but they were suddenly interrupted by a squeal of delight.

"Uncle Dick!" They both looked around in the direction of the shout, and saw Laurie standing there. The girl had to be magic, there was no way that she could just appear out of thin air without some kind of mystical power. Laurie giggled and ran up to the musician, who seemed more relieved than ever.

"Laurie!" Charlotte watched as the girl jumped and Dick scooped her up into his arms. He hefted her up higher so that she sat comfortably in the crook of his arm, and she giggled sweetly. "I've been looking for you too!" He told her, then tapped the end of her nose. Charlotte's eyes were like saucers.

"Uncle?" She cried, her mouth hanging open in shock. Dick nodded, giving her an odd look, not sure why she looked so shocked.

"Yeah, this' Bob's oldest daughter." He told her, ruffling Laurie's dark curly hair. Now that they were together, Charlie could see the family resemblance. That's why her name had sounded so familiar, Dick had told her the names of his brother's children a little while ago. Charlotte turned her wide eyes to Laurie.

"Your father is Bob Sherman?" She asked slowly, her jaw hanging open. The little girl nodded proudly.

"Yep." Charlotte raised her hands, so overcome with surprise and disbelief that she didn't quite know what to do.

"And you couldn't have told me that earlier?" She squeaked. Though Laurie didn't look exactly guilty, she did offer Charlie a sweet, innocent smile.

"We were having fun." She replied quietly. Charlotte felt all her aggravation immediately leave her, and she lowered her hands in surrender. She hadn't really thought about it, but she'd definitely enjoyed her time with Laurie today. After a fruitless search for her father, during which Laurie was no help at all, she'd decided that her office was the safest place for her, somewhere she could work and keep an eye on the mischievous girl. She'd shown her all her art, they'd told jokes and talked and asked questions about each other. Charlie had also let Laurie draw next to her as she worked on her concept art, and the ones that the girl had deemed the best were now stuck up in her office beside her own pieces. Dick looked surprised and raised his eyebrows at Charlie.

"You were?" He asked. He'd assumed that his niece would run poor Charlotte ragged, as she did with everyone that she met, but it appeared a friendship had been forged. Charlotte smiled back at Laurie and nodded.

"We were." She agreed and Laurie giggled. Dick shook his head in disbelief and carefully placed the girl back on the ground. Immediately, her tiny hand found his.

"Uncle Dick, Charlie's so nice." Laurie gushed, grinning from ear to ear. Dick saw Charlotte's face light up and knew that there was no way he could resist teasing her. He pulled a face and hummed thoughtfully.

"You think so? I always thought she was a little mean." He lied, then looked back to Charlie. Her smile dropped and was replaced by a playful, scolding glare. He grinned impishly back and winked at her, much to Charlotte's delight, but Laurie seemed even more offended by his words than the artist.

"What? No!" She cried, but she laughed all the same. She knew that her uncle was only joking. Dick looked uncertain.

"You don't think so?" He asked her. Laurie firmly shook her head and Dick shrugged. "Okay, then." He glanced at Charlotte, who was watching them with a warm expression that made his chest constrict. Laurie tugged his hand, bringing his attention back to her.

"Is she your friend?"

"Yes, she is."

"Is she your  _girl_ friend?" Dick's smile faltered, but he didn't want Laurie or Charlotte to see, so he pretended to look glumly down at his shoes.

"Unfortunately not." He sighed. Laurie frowned, looking between the two adults with clever, bright eyes which Charlotte knew saw a lot more than she let on.

"Why not?" She demanded. Charlie felt her heart stop and she dared not look at Richard for fear of turning bright red. Dick had a lot more practice than Charlotte in this area, so he took the lead.

"Well, for one thing she's terrible at her job." He began, and Charlotte slowly looked up at him. He was grinning that lopsided grin and giving her that look that made her heart stop. "Like, really bad. And I don't think she's very pretty. She's also really boring. Whenever she starts talking, I fall asleep." Laurie gasped and shook her head so that her hair whipped about her shoulders.

"Uncle Dick, you're lying." She cried, not believing that her uncle would say such terrible things about her new friend. Dick sighed, pretending to be caught out.

"You're right, I am." He admitted. Then he looked at Charlotte, whose head was tilted slightly to the side, unsure of where he was going with this. He took a moment to study her: the light behind her eyes, the curl of her hair, her ruby red lips, her  _everything_. She was so beautiful and so kind and so clever. How could he put all of that into a sentence that a six year old would understand and that wouldn't get him into trouble? "She's the most incredible woman I've ever met." He said finally, deciding that simplicity was the best way to go. He hardly heard his niece's next question, because the look Charlotte gave him, the way those lips parted, how her eyes turned sad, it made it hard to breathe.

"Then why isn't she your girlfriend?" He cleared his throat and looked down at Laurie, turning his arm gently so that she twirled like a ballerina, giggling all the way.

"Well, Charlotte's going home to England very soon, and we're not going to see her again for a while." He explained, summarising the root of their problem in only a few words. Laurie looked surprised. To her, it was strange that something so small could stop two people from being together.

"Why are you leaving?" She asked Charlie, who blinked a few times before answering, having not expected to be addressed any time soon. She'd been happily watching Dick interact with his young niece, and wondering if this was what he would be like as a father.

"Because I miss my mum." She replied briefly, not wanting to divulge too much information about her situation so that she didn't upset the little girl. She cleared her throat, suddenly finding her voice felt a little tight. "Speaking of parents, shouldn't we go tell your dad that you're alright?" She suggested, trying to change the subject as swiftly as possible. Laurie seemed disappointed by this idea after all the fun she'd had that day, but she conceded all the same.

"Yeah, okay." She mumbled. Dick chuckled and bent down to her level.

"C'mon, squirt. Hop on." He said brightly, and the girl immediately turned around so that he could lift her up over his head and place her safely on his shoulders. He held onto her little feet as they walked back to the music room, Charlotte close by his side, just as she should be.

The moment they returned to the rehearsal room, they were greeted with a congratulatory cheer. Don was still out looking, but Bob was there to meet them. Dick gently lowered his niece to the ground and she sped across the room to Bob, like one of those little toy cars that you have to pull back before it whizzes away.

"You found her! Thank you!" The oldest Sherman cried as he carefully bent down to hug his daughter. Even his damaged leg couldn't stop him from holding her. Charlotte chuckled and shook her head, happy to see the pair reunited.

"She was in the animation block, she found me." She told him, and Bob turned his attentions to Laurie. He didn't look angry, just relieved, but still he had to reprimand her.

"What have I told you about running off, huh?" He scolded, though again, Laurie didn't look particularly sorry. She didn't think that a thirst for adventure was anything to apologise for, but she bowed her head, knowing that she'd get into even more trouble if she didn't act sorry for herself. Not wanting to invade his brother's privacy, Dick turned to Charlotte. Though he'd seen her a lot that morning and talked to her the night before, it still didn't feel like enough. He had been about to ask her how she was doing, but something about her made him stop. She was moving her jaw awkwardly, as if she were trying to tie a bow with her tongue. The sight was comical, and he had to fight back a laugh.

"What are you eating?" He asked her softly so that he didn't distract Laurie whilst she was being told off. If she heard them laughing, she would definitely want to know why. To his surprise, Charlotte moved closer and looped her arm through his, then rested her other hand at the top of his arm. This intimate action was done partly so that they could speak to each other quietly, but she also simply missed touching him.

"Something Laurie gave me." She whispered excitedly, hardly able to suppress her smile. "It's simply divine." Dick began to smile at her expression, but then she held up a finger, pointing to her mouth. "And look what she taught me." Again, her jaw twisted from left to right, then she parted her lips and blew out a huge balloon of bubblegum. Dick had to lean back due to the bubble's size, but it soon burst and Charlie gathered it safely back into her mouth. She laughed giddily and Dick realised that bubblegum was probably another thing that her mother had kept her from. It was strange to see her get so excited about it, she was practically skipping around the room over something as trivial as a piece of gum. She then reached into her pocket and pulled out another piece for him, which he gladly accepted.

"Sorry, daddy." They heard Laurie mumble as she looked guiltily down at her shoes. "But I found Charlie and Uncle Dick so I was okay really." Bob sighed and glanced up at his brother and Charlotte, who were speaking in hushed voices and giggling like school children.

"Are you going to say thank you to Charlie for looking after you?" He said, loud enough to make the pair stop and look back at him. They both looked embarrassed but definitely not sorry. Sometimes it felt like he was the only grown up in the room. Laurie walked over to Charlie and batted her eyelashes, something she'd clearly practiced so that she could get away with anything.

"Thank you, Charlie." She said politely. Charlotte chuckled and bent down so that they were at eye level.

"It's alright." She replied kindly, then she inclined her head and whispered so that only she could hear. "Thank you for the sweets." Laurie covered her mouth and giggled, making Charlotte laugh too, but she quickly shushed her when she saw Bob raise an eyebrow. He wasn't angry in the slightest and he was glad that Charlie had taken so quickly to his daughter, but he needed to make sure that she was safe and that meant telling her off every now and then. Soon after this, Don jogged back into the room, apologising hurriedly because he couldn't find the girl. He looked desperately worried, but Bob quickly explained what had happened. He soon relaxed and greeted Laurie with the unparalleled exuberance of a father.

"So," Richard began, addressing Charlotte now that everyone was settled. "I think we've done as much as we can today. You wanna have your first lesson?" He grew nervous when Charlie frowned at him, though she continued to chew loudly on her gum.

"I'm sorry?" She asked, and Dick began to wring his hands.

"The piano." He explained cautiously. "You said a little while ago that you'd like to learn, so I thought..." Perhaps he'd made a mistake. She'd agreed to lessons when they had been dancing together. Maybe it had been a spur of the moment idea that she'd never intended to follow through with. But thankfully, Charlotte's expression brightened again and she nodded enthusiastically.

"Oh, Richard, yes! That'd be lovely!" She exclaimed, squeezing his arm excitedly. Dick hadn't expected her to be so eager, but he very much appreciated how close they were and how she kept leaving light touches over his shoulder and chest whenever she spoke.

"Come on." He said, nodding his head towards the piano. Reluctantly, he stepped away, but kept his arm looped through hers as he guided her towards the instrument. He gestured for her to take a seat then sat down beside her. Laurie joined them and watched her uncle raise the piano lid to reveal its ebony and ivory coloured keys.

"Can I help?" She piped up. From their seats around the room Bob smiled to himself and Don chuckled at Laurie's question. The atmosphere in the room was wonderful, it was the first proper relaxation time they'd had in weeks. Charlotte felt like she was amongst family as they laughed and chatted and interacted with each other comfortably.

"Do you know how to play?" She asked Laurie, who nodded vigorously.

"I have lessons," She pulled a face. "But my teacher's a mean, old lady."

"Laurie." Her father warned her, and the little girl sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Mrs. Grunswick is a very nice lady." She told them wearily, this was clearly not the first time she'd had to give the spiel.

"And?"

"And I'm very grateful for her lessons." She looked over her shoulder at Bob and smiled sweetly. "How was that, daddy?" Bob nodded.

"Very good." Laurie turned back to Dick and Charlie, who both thought the scene before them was incredibly funny.

"I've been practising." She told them proudly. Charlotte caught Dick's eye, and he had to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing, afraid that his brother would accuse him of encouraging his niece.

"We'll start off easy, okay?" He said to Charlie, once they'd both gotten a hold of themselves. Charlotte blew out a relieved sigh.

"Yes, please." She said quickly. She knew absolutely nothing about music, and the prospect of learning was exhilarating, but still daunting. The instrument was simultaneously foreign and familiar, she'd seen it played a hundred times before and now she worked with the boys, she had a front row seat. But she had no knowledge of how to play, sit or read the music in front of them. Dick must've seen how nervous she looked, as he smiled reassuringly at her before he began.

"Okay, so eighty-eight keys, one group of notes repeated over and over." He told her, keeping it as light and simple as possible. Not only was Charlotte learning a whole new discipline, she was doing it in front of her friends. Though he knew that she would never be embarrassed about getting something wrong, he understood that trepidation could hold her back. So he proceeded as naturally as he could, trying to get her to relax. "You've got A, B, C, D..." He played each of the notes in turn for her, then smiled brightly. "Once you got that, you're on the road to being the next Mozart." Charlotte rolled her eyes, she didn't think she would ever be that good, but it was nice of him to say. She saw that Laurie was still by Dick's side, watching them curiously.

"Can you play me a song, Laurie?" She asked the girl. "Then perhaps I can copy?" Laurie gave her a toothy grin and nodded furiously.

"Sure!" Dick got up from his seat next to Charlie so that Laurie could take his place. As he watched his niece and his best friend interact, he sat down beside Don and Bob, who were also engrossed by the show provided. "You start with C twice then G, then A..." Whilst Laurie taught Charlie the rudimentary tune, the three men watched and talked. It was good to relax every now and then, and though the day had been considered a strong success for the trio, they knew that tomorrow and the days to come would bring more challenges for them. Though in the meantime, they would enjoy these times together, and not dwell on bad things.

Although it took a little time and a lot of patience from both parties involved, Charlotte eventually mastered the keys of the piano and learned how to play 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star' unfalteringly. It was a basic tune, but the woman couldn't be more proud of herself. She'd never thought she'd even play a piano, let alone learn a song.

"Fantastic!" She gushed as she completed the song perfectly. Her friends gave a small round of applause, and Charlotte hid her face behind her hands out of embarrassment. When her red hue had diminished, she said to the girl beside her, "You're an excellent teacher, Laurie." She giggled and hopped off her seat, running over to her dad to sit in his lap.

"Thank you." She replied sweetly, always willing to accept compliments. Charlotte grinned at Dick as he moved to sit back down beside her again.

"Soon I'll play as well as you." She said. The musician pulled a face, pretending to disagree.

"Well, I don't know about that." He told her slowly as he sat down again. Charlotte scoffed and lightly hit his shoulder. Laurie studied the two adults, her head cocked to one side curiously.

"Are you sure they're not married?" She whispered to her father. Bob looked at his brother and the woman he clearly adored, who were both laughing raucously, then kissed the top of Laurie's head.

"No, I'm not sure at all, sweetie." He murmured in reply. Laurie shook her head, her lips pressed into a line.

"Me neither." She agreed.

* * *

Not far from where they sat, McLaren Stewart was knocking on his boss' door. When he heard a faint call, he opened the door and poked his head through.

"Hey, Walt." He greeted quickly, knowing that Disney was a busy man and liked to keep meetings short. But Walt smiled at the animator and gestured for him to come in.

"Hey, Mac. What can I do for ya?" He asked kindly, though his attention was mostly caught by the papers in front of him. Mac wrung his hands as he stood in front of the desk. It wasn't often that he felt nervous, but he was about to propose something big and he was practically quaking in his shoes. He cleared his throat and adjusted his tie anxiously before continuing.

"Listen, I, uh, I've had an idea, and I wondered if I might run it by you." He told his boss. "It's about Charlie."


	13. Chapter 13

"Charlie?" The artist jumped, surprised by her name being called. She'd been staring into space for she didn't know how long, and the sudden voice had shocked her back into the present. In the doorway stood McLaren Stewart, and he looked just as surprised as she did. Charlotte let out a long breath and tucked her hair back behind her ear, she'd managed to mess it up when she'd jumped.

"McLaren," She began, not even forgetting her manners after she'd been frightened out of her skin. "What are you doing all the way down here?" Mac opened her office door a little wider but stayed in the doorway.

"I wanted to ask you something, can I come in?"

"Make yourself at home." The animator thanked her and began shamelessly nosing around the room. Charlotte was used to people getting distracted by the artwork posted on every wall, so she returned her attention to her work whilst Mac had a look around.

"Nice place," He told her after a minute or so. "Damn cleaner than mine." Charlie couldn't hold back her snort.

"That is the understatement of the century, McLaren." She looked around at the man with a smug smile and he rolled his eyes.

"Watch it, Your Majesty." He muttered as he found himself a chair to sit on. Once he was comfortable, Charlotte asked,

"How's your department?" She didn't exactly have high expectations, but she hoped that McLaren had got some work done after she'd left him to it. Though the room had still looked like a pigsty, she'd thought it was enough for Mac to handle. Fortunately, she'd assumed correctly.

"Clean as a whistle." Mac said, and his proud smile didn't go unseen. Then he pulled a face and shrugged his shoulders. "Well, clean-ish." He continued, and Charlotte narrowed her eyes. Mac looked a little bit frightened and quickly added, "Well, everything's in the right place just not very neatly, okay?" Charlie sighed but she wasn't really cross with him. She was just pleased that he could get on with his work and she could stop having nightmares about the room.

"I suppose that'll do for now." She mused as she added the final details to her drawing. "I've a right mind to go up there and organise it myself, but then I wouldn't get to watch you struggle with it." She suddenly remembered that Mac had come to see her for a reason, and she smiled guiltily. "I'm sorry, what did you need?"

"Oh, well, I, uh... I had an idea." Charlotte raised her eyebrows curiously, and Mac gained some confidence. He'd been nervous about asking her, afraid that she would turn him down, but the more he thought about it, the more he realised he had nothing to fear. "You see, I know you're leavin' in a few weeks, but I thought I should ask you before you go. Just in case." Charlotte laughed dubiously.

"Ask me what?" She pressed. McLaren was really dragging this out and she couldn't bear it any longer. The animator took a deep breath and gave her a small smile.

"If you wanted to stay on at the studios, but working in my department." He said eventually. Charlie froze, her eyes wide. Surely she hadn't heard him correctly. Surely he'd made a mistake. Her silence only made Mac feel even more nervous and he'd been about to apologise when she finally spoke.

"I'm sorry?" She breathed, blinking once or twice. McLaren had to laugh then, her expression really was priceless.

"I talked to Walt. Hell've a guy, our boss. Asked if it would be okay if you kept working here at the studios, but in the Animation Department, and... He said yes." Charlotte felt as if she'd gone numb, her heart pounding so loud she thought he must've been able to hear it.

"McLaren..." She shook her head slowly. "I don't know what to say." The animator chuckled and gave a shrug.

"Thank you?" He suggested, and Charlie finally cracked a smile. She was truly grateful but she was so shocked, she couldn't piece together a suitable reply. But then she realised something.

"I don't know anything about animation." She said to him. McLaren laughed again.

"I thought you'd say that." He grinned excitedly. When he'd talked to Walt yesterday, his boss had surprised him with how quickly he'd agreed with his idea. After he'd made sure that Disney had no qualms about his proposal, it had taken all his willpower not to rush to Charlie's hotel to tell her right there and then. He grinned, preparing her for the second part of his good news. "So, I asked Walt if I could teach you a thing or two." Charlotte had barely recovered from his last surprise and she thought that if she weren't holding onto her desk, she would've fallen out of her chair.

"What?" She breathed, making Mac laugh.

"You're gonna study animation here at the studios, with me and the guys." He explained brightly. Charlotte raised a hand to her mouth, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Oh, my God." It was as if all her dreams were coming true right before her eyes. She'd wanted to work at Walt Disney Productions since she was a little girl and now here she was. She thought she must've been dreaming, but then Mac raised a finger and bowed his head slightly.

"But, it means you can't leave." He reminded her. And there it was, she knew it was all too good to be true. Though she would get all her wishes granted, it would mean giving up her life back in London. It would mean she wouldn't see her mother, who was so terribly ill. "So, it's your choice. You don't have to decide right now, but it'd be good to know, okay?" Charlotte nodded her head quickly, her eyes still wide from the shock.

"Yes, of course. I'll give you an answer by tomorrow."

"Sleep on it, good idea." Mac nodded approvingly. He placed his palms on his legs and pushed himself out of her chair, grunting with the effort. Charlotte let her gaze drop to the floor as she tried to come to terms with what had just happened. She almost didn't notice when Mac stopped in the doorway. "You could do great things, Charlie." He told her softly and she found his smile comforting. She smiled back and he patted the door frame before stepping outside. "See you around."

"Goodbye." She murmured, although by then he was surely out of earshot. Charlie let out a long breath and knotted her fingers together anxiously. There were so many things to consider. On the one hand, she could turn down the offer. She would go home like she had planned and return to her normal life, working at the publishing company and looking after her mother. Or, she could accept the incomparable opportunity that she'd just been given. She would have the job she had always wanted, she would work for the company she'd admired since she was a girl, and it meant that... It meant that she and Richard could-

"Hey!" She jumped again at yet another sudden voice and looked up to see the very man who had captured her thoughts. Dick was smiling at her cheerily but she still paralysed with shock from McLaren's visit. She blinked up at him, her lips slightly parted, so that she looked as if she'd been dazed.

"Hi." She replied faintly. Dick frowned and nodded his head towards the corridor.

"Was that Mac?" He asked. Charlie snapped herself out of her shocked haze and closed her eyes, shaking her head ever so slightly.

"Yes, um, he just wanted to see how far I'd gotten with something." She lied quickly, trying to generate a smile. Dick didn't seem convinced but didn't see any reason to question her further.

"Oh." He said simply. He noticed that she didn't quite meet his eyes. He thought perhaps her mind was elsewhere. "Hey, are you alright?" He asked carefully. That finally got Charlie's brain working again. Mac's offer had been quite a shock to her system and she didn't know whether to be happy or not. For now though, she would act as if nothing had happened.

"Yeah, yes, I'm fine. Perfect." She said quickly, and this time her smile was real. She wouldn't tell Dick about Mac's offer, at least not yet. She didn't want to raise his hopes, especially when she didn't know what her reply was going to be just yet. What she did know was that if Dick found out about the offer, he'd be over the moon, and she wouldn't be able to tell him that she might turn it down. So, for now at least, she'd keep silent. "Sorry, was there something you needed?" Dick grinned at her and stepped into her office.

"Yes, actually." He placed his hands on her desk and leaned in close so that he could whisper to her, whilst Charlotte tried not to show how much she liked having him that close. "I came to ask if you wanna go on an adventure." He said, somewhat conspiratorially. Charlotte raised an eyebrow at his proposal, but she couldn't help but smile.

"Another one?" Their last adventure had been their escape to the hill. It had been a wonderful evening, but she hadn't thought there would be any more excursions. Clearly, and thankfully, she'd been mistaken.

"You'll love this one." Dick assured her, but Charlie only frowned.

"I loved the last one." She said defensively. Dick laughed and straightened up again. It was good to know that she thought about their adventure with as much fondness as he did, but there was still so much more fun to be had.

"C'mon." He urged, nodding towards the door. Charlotte scoffed as she watched him walk away. She'd thought that he was joking, but now she wasn't so sure.

"Wait, Richard." The musician stopped in the doorway and span around, his eyebrows raised curiously. Was he serious? Surely not. There was no way that they could get away with it again. "We can't, we've got work." She protested, laughing incredulously at his mad idea. Dick only smiled and shook his head.

"Don't worry about that. I talked to Walt, it's all arranged." He replied, before he winked at her and slipped out of sight. His words were meant to sound reassuring, but they only served to make Charlie feel even more concerned. She stood up from her chair and poked her head out of her door.

"What is?"

* * *

Walt opened his arms wide as the gates opened and Mrs. Travers' car rolled into the park. Dick and Charlotte stood beside him, watching with equal parts trepidation and excitement. When Dick had said 'adventure', this was not what Charlie had pictured. That wasn't to say that she was disappointed, in fact, it was quite the opposite. She'd wanted to visit Disneyland since it had opened six years ago and she was finally there. Dick had escorted her to a company car that had driven them to Anaheim, only an hour's drive away. When they'd pulled up outside, Charlotte had almost passed out. Dick had laughed at her expression and helped her out of the car, which she was thankful for as she didn't think her legs would work properly. If she received any more surprises that day, she'd probably keel over.

They were waiting in the courtyard, just past the ticket booths. Hundreds of people were waiting to come inside and it was only the early afternoon. Charlotte had taken in as much as possible while they waited, though her view was limited. Behind them was a neat garden, with flowers planted in the shape of Mickey Mouse, and behind that, a train bustled past, blowing out a shriek of steam. It was a beautiful place, full of colour and laughter and the sun was shining brilliantly. It was a perfect day, but she was worried about Mrs. Travers. Walt had told them that he'd invited the author to visit the theme park with him, but she'd turned him down. He felt a little guilty about essentially kidnapping her, but they all agreed it would do her some good to see the park. The sleek, black car pulled up in front of them and the driver instantly got out. It was the same man who had brought her to the studios on her first day, Charlie was impressed by his valour. She didn't think she would be able to put up with the personification of grumpiness in the back seat of her car. Walt stepped forward to open the door for Mrs. Travers just as the driver rounded the car.

"Oh, I can get that." He piped, but Walt had already pulled open the door. Charlie glanced at Richard, and was reminded suddenly of Mrs. Travers' first day. She felt the same nerves as she had done then and looking to Richard still helped her to relax. He smiled at her eagerly and that helped her calm down, though she couldn't help but feel a little excited too.

"Mrs. Travers, welcome to the Magic Kingdom." Walt greeted the author grandly. The author exited the car and immediately turned her nose up at the sights before her. She didn't seem nearly as impressed as Charlotte, looking about the theme park with disdain.

"Is it all like this?" She muttered, squinting at her surroundings suspiciously, but Disney seemed impervious to her biting comments.

"Yup!" He cried happily, waving at a few kids as they went past. "Isn't it wonderful?" Mrs. Travers didn't seem to agree with him, but she didn't reply. Instead, she turned her head and noticed Dick and Charlie for the first time.

"Oh, it's you." She realised, her mouth still set in a firm line. Charlotte and Dick both smiled broadly at the author and spread their arms wide.

"It's us." Charlie replied and the sight made Walt smirk. Though Mrs. Travers didn't seem to find them half as amusing as their boss did.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, her face all screwed up with confusion. Dick shrugged and gestured vaguely around them.

"It's a beautiful day, Mrs. Travers. It's a shame to spend it indoors." He told the woman. Charlotte raised her hands, palms up, and shook her head.

"I promise I had no idea about this." She said quickly and she couldn't be certain, but she thought for a second that she saw Mrs. Travers' lip twitch into a smile. Dick elbowed her in the ribs, though only gently.

"Hey, traitor." He muttered close to her ear. "Be a team player." Charlotte smirked and nudged him back as Mrs. Travers returned her attention to Walt.

"Do you always get everything you want, Walter?" She griped, though she seemed considerably less irritable than in previous meetings with their boss. In fact, it seemed as if she was reluctantly starting to loosen up, though Charlie didn't want to jinx it by mentioning it to Dick. Walt pretended to think about her words for a moment before smiling at the author.

"Pretty much!" He replied. He said hello to her driver, who seemed to be just as star-struck as Charlotte still was, and Mrs. Travers sighed loudly.

"With the exception of the rights to my books of course." She put in, as if to remind him that she still had the upper hand. Though this slightly deterred Dick and Charlie, Walt's smile only grew.

"Well, war ain't over yet, Pam!" He boomed. "War ain't over yet." He began to lead her away from the car, but they were instantly surrounded by a gaggle of park goers. A woman in a polka dot dress held up a notepad for him to sign, but Walt pulled out a bunch of pre-signed slips to hand out to the group instead. While Mrs. Travers and he spoke, Dick and Charlotte were having their own conversation.

"I can't believe this." Charlotte was whispering excitedly. "I'm actually here!" Dick watched her as she span around in circles, trying to take everything in. "It's wonderful!" She cried, and he couldn't help but smile at her. She suddenly stopped and pointed across the street. "Look, there's Donald Duck!" She gasped, and he saw that she was gesturing to one of the many characters who roamed the park. "And Goofy!" Dick chuckled and gently took her by the arm, leading her away from the courtyard. Walt and Mrs. Travers had started to move again and they'd be left behind if they didn't hurry up.

"If I'da known you'd be this excited, I would've brought you sooner." He joked as she slipped her arm through his, though her eyes were still darting about as they walked.

"I've always wanted to come here." She murmured, her red smile stretching from ear to ear. Dick raised his eyebrows.

"I can tell." He said, and Charlie gave him a dark look. He was only teasing her, but really it was nice to see her so happy. Lately, it had felt like the weight of their troubles was getting too much. That's why he'd asked Walt if it would be alright for them to accompany him and Mrs. Travers to the park. They could blow off a little steam and he knew how much Charlie would love the trip. "You're cute when you're excited." He said, then instantly regretted it when Charlie suddenly looked around at him. Her excited grin slipped into a knowing smirk and he blushed bright red. "C'mon, we're losing them." He muttered, ducking his head so that she wouldn't see his burning skin.

They picked up the pace and followed Walt as he guided the author through the park. Every so often someone would approach him for an autograph and he would hand them a slip of paper, but he never once slowed down, much to Charlie's annoyance. She wanted to explore, but for now, she would have to follow her boss as he tried to charm Mrs. Travers. Though, arm in arm with Richard was not a bad place to be.

"Where did she come from?" She heard Walt ask. They were a short distance behind the other pair, but she could still hear their conversation. Though she felt nosey, she didn't want to miss anything that they said. Both Don and Bob had made them promise to report back everything that they saw and heard that day, they didn't want to let them down.

"Who?" Mrs. Travers asked, pretending to be oblivious to Walt's question, but Disney saw through her act.

"Oh, I think you know who." He replied, raising his eyebrows at her pointedly. Mrs. Travers sighed again and pretended to study a building to her left so that she wouldn't have to look him in the eye.

"She flew in through the window one day." She told him, her hands still clutched together tightly. Disney studied her tense posture and was about to reply when they both heard raucous laughter from behind them. They glanced over their shoulders and saw Dick and Charlie collapsed against each other in a fit of giggles, though they were still trying to keep up with them. Disney sighed at the couple and turned back again.

"Ignore them, they're always like that." He muttered. Mrs. Travers smirked, recalling every time she had seen the artist and the musician together, and found there were too many to count. In fact, she couldn't think of a time when the two had been separate for more than five minutes.

"I know." She replied quietly. She tried to ignore the pair as they continued to walk, though she could admit to herself that it was... Nice to see them enjoying themselves.

"Now, I know you don't wanna be here, so I'm gonna take you to one ride, my favourite amusement, and then I'll set you free." Walt led them through the crowded park until they arrived at a beautiful carousel. Charlotte was initially surprised that this old merry-go-round was Walt's favourite ride, but the more she thought about it, she realised that the somewhat childish attraction suited him well. She and Richard stood back and watched as Walt guided the author to one of the gorgeous carousel horses and patted it fondly, as if it were a real animal. "Mrs. Travers, I would be honoured if you would take a ride on Jingles, here." Though they couldn't see Mrs. Travers' face, they could make an educated guess as to what degree of contempt she was expressing. Charlotte leaned to the side so that she could murmur to Richard, her eyes still locked on Walt and Pamela.

"Is he really going to get her on that horse?" She whispered. Dick could only shake his head in disbelief.

"I hope so." He whispered back. He wished he had a camera, this moment was priceless. He was sure that neither Don nor Bob would believe them when they told them all about it tomorrow. He even considered asking Charlie to draw the scene unfolding before them, just so that he had some kind of evidence, but Charlotte suddenly grabbed his upper-arm excitedly, and he realised that Mrs. Travers had actually climbed onto the horse. They both had to stifle their cries of excitement, clapping their hands over their mouths so that Mrs. Travers couldn't hear them.

"Oh, my God." Charlotte whispered, her eyes as wide as saucers. Whilst they both tried to calm down, they listened to what Walt was saying to the author, who looked less than happy about her situation.

"The boys have had an idea for your Mr. Banks. I think it'll make you happy." She frowned at Walt, adjusting her position on the horse so that she could look him in the eye.

"You brought me all the way out here to tell me that?" She exclaimed, but Walt shook his head.

"Oh, no... No, I brought you all the way out here for monetary gain." Mrs. Travers looked even more confused, so Walt went on. "Had a wager with the boys that I couldn't get you on a ride." At this, he sent Dick a thumbs up before turning back to the author, his smile as broad as the Cheshire Cat's. "I just won twenty bucks." He told her happily. Before Mrs. Travers could even begin to give him a piece of her mind as she had intended, the carousel began to revolve. She and Walt rose and fell gently as the ride rotated, the latter waving to the crowds of people around them. Charlotte's laughter slowly fizzled out and she suddenly felt quite emotional as she watched the author. Though she was outwardly trying to pretend that she wasn't enjoying the ride, Charlie could see her smiling softly. Dick was surprised when he turned to Charlotte to see her looking so forlorn.

"Are you alright?" He asked, his voice filled with concern. Charlotte looked to him and was surprised that he looked so worried. She was being silly, really. There wasn't anything to get upset over.

"What? Yes! Yes, I'm fine! I'm perfect." She assured him quickly. Richard relaxed then, but he still couldn't understand why she'd looked so miserable. Charlie sighed softly and looked over at Mrs. Travers again. "It's just that she..." She trailed off, finding she didn't know how to finish her sentence. Dick followed her gaze and finally understood what had upset her. Mrs. Travers was enjoying herself, she was smiling, she was  _happy_. Charlie wasn't upset, she was glad that the author, who'd had such a hard time during her stay, finally felt free. Shaking her head, she took Richard by the arm again and smiled at him. "Thank you, Dick. This has been incredible." She said quietly. Richard didn't know how to reply, in fact the way she was looking at him left him quite speechless, as per usual. Instead, he turned his head back to the carousel.

"Walt?" He called to their boss. Though he was still enjoying the attraction, Walt did look over at the pair. "Would it be alright if me and Charlie went to have a look around?" He heard Charlie gasp beside him but he daren't look at her, for fear of doing something he shouldn't, like kissing her again. Walt chuckled and waved to them cheerily. He was just happy that he'd got Mrs. Travers on the ride, they could do whatever they wanted.

"Have a great time." He replied, chuckling all the way. Charlotte could hardly believe her luck. She had seen Mrs. Travers on a merry-go-round, and now she was fortunate enough to spend time in Disneyland with Richard. Nothing could've been more perfect.

"I'm sure I will." She called back to their boss, before raising her eyebrows at Dick. He chuckled and took her by the arm, leading her way from the carousel. They were certainly spoilt for choice for things to do. Dick had visited the park many times before, mostly with Bob and his kids. It was strange to be there with Charlie, it was as if two worlds were crossing over. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as they walked side by side. She was turning her head this way and that, as if she was trying to take everything in, her smile as bright as the sunshine above. They decided to start at the far corner of the park, then make their way across so that they finished by the entrance at the end of the day.

It wasn't as difficult as he'd thought it would be to persuade Charlotte onto the rides. He'd thought perhaps that she'd shy back from many of the scarier attractions, but soon he'd forgotten why he'd thought that would ever be the case. She pulled him towards the rides, bouncing up and down like an excited child. The lines were fairly long, but they spent the time talking, and the time flew by. To Charlie, it felt like the time went too quickly. They went on everything, from the Peter Pan Flight, to the Jungle Cruise, to the Railroad, which Charlie had seen pictures of Walt himself riding. As the evening drew to a close, the pair were sitting on the grass, tucking into a cloud of candy floss each (another sweet treat that Charlie had never been allowed). She was winding the bright pink sugar around her fingers as she watched families and couples mill about before them. This place was so colourful and so effulgent, it seemed to shine with joy, and she knew she would never get tired of looking at it. She let out a contented sigh that Dick subconsciously copied. He was sat beside her, so close that their shoulders touched, and he too was happily watching the crowds of people. Charlie finished her mouthful of candy floss then turned her head to him.

"Dick?"

"Hm?" His voice was quiet, as if she'd woken him up from a daydream. The way he looked at her, it was so earnest and soft that it made her smile. She'd never get tired of looking at him either.

"This has been the happiest day of my life." She told him quietly, but she'd never been so sure about anything. Dick looked surprised, but only for a second. Her words made his chest flutter, and she was so close that he could see that light in her eyes that had enthralled him since they'd met. He let out a short breath, the corners of his mouth turning upwards. Charlotte held his gaze, her ruby lips parted into a smile of her own, but then something happened, and the light dimmed just a little. Her smile dropped minutely, then disappeared altogether. Before he could ask what was wrong, she murmured, "I will miss you terribly." Dick's heart plummeted in his chest, his smile also slowly vanishing. Charlotte looked guilty for having ruined the moment, she even feared that she'd ruined the whole day, but Dick couldn't let her think that. He tentatively reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, then as he pulled back, he brushed his thumb over her cheek.

"I'm gonna miss you too, Charles." He murmured, his eyes crossing over her face, as if he were trying to take in every detail, before meeting her gaze once more. Charlotte offered him a tiny smile but it was clearly forced. He would miss her. He would miss her so much that it hurt. He'd gotten used to seeing her every day, when she left, it would be like something was missing. But until then, he couldn't let his feelings cloud her judgement. She had to leave. It was for the best. He finally dropped his hand and, noticing that they'd both finished their candy floss, he stood up and brushed himself off. "C'mon, enough of that." He said, putting on a mock gruff voice. Charlotte chuckled and shook her head at him, but she was glad that she hadn't ruined their time together. He held out his hand to her, and Charlie gratefully accepted it. Once he'd pulled her to her feet, he looked around them, scanning the crowd for their final ride. With a triumphant cry, he spotted the perfect attraction. "Charlotte," He nodded over to a brightly coloured ride with a fairly short line. "Come and have a spin on the teacups with me." The artist gladly accepted his proposition, and they began to make their way over to the attraction. Though neither of them could bring themselves to discuss Charlotte's fast approaching departure, they knew that soon they would have to confront it. For now though, they could forget about their troubles and have fun in the happiest place on Earth. As they walked side by side, their hands brushed against each other, once, twice, three times, before Charlotte finally reached out and wrapped her fingers around his. Dick looked across at her, and for once, she wasn't embarrassed by any signs of affection. She simply smiled at him, then looked forward again. Dick chuckled and squeezed her hand in his. This had been the happiest day of his life too.

All too soon, the park had to close, and they had to say goodbye to Walt and his wonderful world. Although, the sky overhead was beginning to darken, and angry looking clouds were starting to gather, so perhaps it was good to get home before the weather turned on them. The taxi ride home was quiet, but not uncomfortably so. They were both exhausted and were collapsed against each other without any sign of awkwardness or bashfulness. They arrived at Charlotte's hotel first, the old building lit up beautifully. With a strong sense of déjà vu, Dick asked the driver to wait whilst he said goodnight to Charlie outside of the hotel entrance. The artist skipped up the steps in front of him, spinning and moving her arms about gracefully.

"I feel like I'm walking on air. I'm so perfectly happy." She practically sang. Dick laughed as he followed her up the stairs then met her at the summit. She was shining as brightly as the stars above, he couldn't take his eyes off her. "Dick, I'll never forget this day for as long as I live." She told him determinedly, and that resolute look in her eyes was all it took to convince him that she truly believed what she was saying. He shoved his hands into his pockets, he still felt nervous around her despite how close they were.

"I'm glad." He murmured, and he really was. When he had approached Walt that morning, he'd worried that perhaps Charlie wouldn't like the surprise. Oh, how wrong he'd been. He studied her for a moment then laughed loudly. "You can't stop smiling can you?" He realised. Her grin was plastered to her face, and there was no chance of her being able to suppress it.

"Not if you paid me." She replied. He laughed again, then noticed something.

"Hey, when did you start calling me 'Dick'?" He asked, and Charlotte almost laughed at his expression. He looked so happy, as if she'd given him a gift. Then she supposed, in a way, she had. She hadn't even noticed it herself, but sometime during the day, she'd suddenly started to use his nickname.

"I don't know." She replied honestly. It wasn't that she disliked it or him, it's just that she liked to call him Richard, as no one else called him that. Now though, she realised the meaning behind this change. It meant that they were firmly set, and there was no way that they could easily be separated. They were close, both as friends and as something more, and were completely comfortable with each other. Instead of relaying her thoughts, which she found were too difficult to explain, she simply said, "Hm, interesting. You must've done something to impress me." Dick remembered those words, her voice was as clear as a bell inside his head. He remembered what she'd said when they were up in that hill.

_"You're a good friend, Richard."_

_"And yet you won't call me 'Dick'."_

_"Ah, you'll have to do something to impress me to earn that."_

Charlotte was smiling delightedly, looking very pleased with herself. Dick shook his head in disbelief, trying to not to smile but failing miserably.

"That's good." He said eventually, and Charlie gave a small huff of laughter, her eyes never leaving his. They were silent for a moment, before Dick remembered that it was getting late. He raised a hand in farewell and took a step backwards. "See ya, Charlie." He said quietly, before he turned and walked down the hotel steps. Charlie watched him leave, feeling an overwhelming sense of emptiness, as if their day together was still incomplete. Before she even knew what she was doing, she had rushed down the steps after the musician and tapped him on the shoulder. When he turned around, she flung her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. Dick's bewildered expression quickly changed to elation, and he hugged her back just as tightly.

"Thank you so much." She murmured by his ear, sending shivers over his skin. "I had the most wonderful time." Dick huffed and nuzzled his face into her neck, letting her warmth and scent envelop him.

"Me too." He replied, just as quietly. Though it hurt to do so, Charlotte eventually unwrapped herself from around Richard, but her hands found his forearms and she squeezed them comfortingly. Dick had been about to say his goodbyes once again, but he stopped when he saw Charlie's soft expression shift. Her eyes suddenly left his, darting about over his shoulder. He watched her lips, as he always found himself doing, as they parted in disbelief.

"Wait." She breathed. He didn't want to interrupt her, so he didn't ask what the matter was, and to be honest, he was having a wonderful time just looking at her, because her hands were still clutching his arms and she was very close. He watched her hazel eyes widen and finally grew too curious. "Oh, my God." She whispered. Dick shook his head, his eyebrows drawn together anxiously.

"What? What is it?" Charlotte let go of his arms and he turned around to see what she was staring at. At first he couldn't see anything to be that fascinated by, but then he heard Charlie's jubilant voice.

"It's raining." She reached out and tapped his arm, making sure that he was seeing what she was. "It's bloody raining!" The heavy clouds had finally burst and the first rain that Charlotte had seen in a month was falling heavily. Before Dick could say another word, Charlotte had rushed out from under the cover of the hotel's awning and was standing under the sudden downpour.

"Charlie!" He tried to get her to come back under cover, but there was no stopping the woman. Charlie raised her arms and let the fat raindrops fall onto her skin. She wasn't properly dressed for it, but she'd never been so happy to stand in the rain. California was so hot and so sunny, a stark contrast to her warm yet stormy country. She'd missed the rain just as much as she missed her mother and her home. It was such a big part of her, she'd felt incomplete until now. She closed her eyes and turned her face upwards, letting the rain wash over her. In the distance, she heard thunder roll over the sky, but it was too far away to be worrisome. The sound of the downpour was captivating and for a moment, she was back home in England, watching the rain fall outside whilst sat in front of a warm fire. She took in a deep breath and felt like she might cry at the familiar scent that greeted her, the smell of the rain. She could hear hurried footsteps all around her as people rushed to get somewhere dry, but she wasn't going anywhere. Then she heard a voice, her favourite voice. It was telling her that she was crazy and that she'd catch her death, but then he was there with her, enjoying the feeling of the rain, and laughing joyously. "You're crazy!" Dick muttered again, but then he chuckled and closed his eyes too, letting the water drench his clothes, his shoes, his hair. Finally, the cold grew too much for him, he was accustomed to a much warmer climate than Charlotte and he didn't quite have the same endurance that she did. He took her hand in his and squeezed it tight, making her open her eyes. She looked at him strangely for a moment, as if she couldn't quite remember where she was, but then she grinned at him, and she'd never looked more beautiful. "Goodnight, gorgeous." He said, squeezing her hand again. Charlotte nodded, shaking water droplets off her face and hair,

"Goodnight, Dick."

She got a few strange looks from the few people in the hotel lobby as she walked past, but she didn't care. She didn't think she'd ever been so happy in her whole life. It was all she could do to stop herself from skipping to her room. Once inside, she immediately got changed, not wanting to suffer yet another illness during her stay. As she sat on her bed and towelled her hair dry, she replayed her day in her head. Though it had started off in the same way as the others, the last hours had gotten increasingly more exhilarating. She could hardly believe that it had all happened. She reached for the phone, and after a few short minutes, she heard a much missed voice.

"Mum?"

"Hello, darling!" The rain had made her homesick, and there was no way that she could keep all the wonders of the day to herself. Calling her mother was a way of venting all that she couldn't say to anyone else, and she did miss her terribly. "How are you?" Her mother asked cheerily. Clearly, she'd missed Charlotte just as much.

"I've had the most incredible day, I can hardly describe it!" Charlie exclaimed, falling back onto her bed and letting out a childish giggle. She felt like a teenager again, so full of excitement and vivacity. "A friend took me to Disneyland with Walt Disney himself."

"A friend?" Charlotte rolled her eyes. Trust her mother to focus on that part of her news. Oh, no, the fact that she'd gotten her biggest wish granted wasn't nearly as important as who she'd gone with.

"We've worked together a lot over the past weeks. He's lovely, you'd like him."

"He?" Again Charlotte rolled her eyes.

"Yes, mum, he."

"You have a friend who is a man?"

"Yes, mum." There was silence for a moment, then Charlie sighed exasperatedly. Her mum's silence spoke a thousand words. "He's not my boyfriend."

"I didn't say that he was." She said defensively and Charlotte chuckled.

"You were thinking it." She replied knowingly. Her mother sighed, as always she was vexed by her daughter's smart-aleck ways.

"Do you like him?" She persisted. Charlotte pretended to be innocent of her mother's insinuations.

"He's my friend, of course I like him."

"And you say he took you to Disneyland?"

"Yes." Another silence as her mum thought over the situation. Charlotte twirled her hair around her fingers, chewing her lip as she waited for her mother's verdict. Finally she got her answer.

"You don't go on dates with men who are just friends, Charlotte." Charlie let out a long groan and she wearily hid her face with her free hand.

"Mum."

"I'm getting on Charlotte, dear. I want to see you married before I go." She replied insistently, and Charlotte was sobered by her words. It was true, her mother was very ill, and her persistent search to find Charlie a husband was her life's work. Now that her questioning was over, she moved on to the main portion of Charlotte's news. "Did you have a nice time?" Charlotte let out a long, contented sigh and shook her head.

"It was marvellous, mum. I can hardly believe it happened."

"You sound like you're having a wonderful trip." Charlotte smiled to herself.

"I am." She agreed. Though she'd been initially anxious about the whole thing, California and the Disney studios now felt like a second home. It would be hard to leave, that's for sure. Her mother had been extremely nervous about the whole situation, which is why her next words shocked Charlie.

"It's a shame you have to come home." She sat up, ramrod straight, her eyes impossibly wide.

"Mum?"

"I mean, you're having so much fun. It's a shame you have to come home and stay with your boring, old mother." She was completely astonished. Never in a million years had she thought her mother would ever say such a thing. She thought it best not to question it, in case she changed her mind.

"You're neither of those things." She assured her, smiling down the phone. She looked up at her window and saw that the rain was still falling. "I do love it here, I wish you could see it." She murmured. There was silence again, and Charlie took the opportunity to pick up the phone's base and walk with it over to the wide window. She placed the phone on the windowsill, the receiver still pressed to her ear, and gazed out at the city.

"Charlotte, are you happy?" She almost didn't hear her mum's question.

"Sorry?"

"Are you happy there in America?" Her mum reiterated. Charlie frowned, she wasn't sure where she was going with this.

"I'm having the time of my life," She answered truthfully. "But what are you-"

"You should stay." She almost dropped the phone. It felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. She untucked the phone from where she'd been using her shoulder to hold it to her ear, finding that her hands were shaking.

"What?" She breathed. Was this really her mother talking? There was no way that she could have heard her correctly.

"Don't say 'what', say 'pardon'." Okay, yes, that was definitely her mum. But what was she talking about? "You should stay in California." Charlotte's mouth fell open and she shook her head in disbelief.

"But mum-"

"But nothing." She said firmly. "You're happy, you have a job that you love, and people that care about you. As long as I know you're safe, I'm happy for you to stay."

"It's completely safe, mum." She assured her quickly. She could feel excitement building up in her chest, but she didn't want to get too ahead of herself. There were still so many things to consider about such a big decision. "But what about you?"

"Don't worry about me."

"But with your-"

"Charlotte, I'm an old woman. You can't spend the rest of my life looking after me and the rest of yours being miserable." Charlie could hardly believe this was happening. She must have been dreaming. She must have fallen down the rabbit hole. Her mum was letting her stay? But then a bigger question popped into her head: did she  _want_  to stay? She'd never put any thought into it, the idea had seemed too ridiculous. But now...

"Mum, I-"

"Charlotte, is this want you want?" Her mother clearly knew her better than she thought.  _Did_  she want to stay? Her mind turned to her perfect job and the beautiful city, to the friends she had made and the opportunities that had arisen. And finally she thought of Richard, and what her staying might mean for them.

"I..." She could hardly believe this was happening to her. What had she done to deserve such good fortune? "Yes. Yes, I do." She realised, and her hand flew to her mouth. She thought she might cry, she was so happy. Was it possible to die from happiness? Her legs felt all wobbly and it was hard to breathe. She was staying. She didn't have to go. Now that she'd been given this gift, she realised just how much she had wanted to stay in California. She would've missed it terribly. She would have missed him more than anything.

"Perfect." Her mother said brightly. She'd always put her daughter's happiness first, and if she wanted to stay in America, then that's what she would do. "Now we just have to get you a job." Charlotte's mouth fell open, and she let out an incredulous laugh.

"I've just been offered one." She realised. She could practically hear her mother's bewildered expression.

"Pardon?"

"I was offered a new job this morning, in the Animation Department."

"You  _have_  had a good day, haven't you?" Charlotte gave a loud laugh. The only thing that was stopping her from dancing around her hotel room was that she would drop the phone. She rested her hand on her forehead, all her fears and anxieties now a thing of the past.

"Mum, I don't know how to... You've no idea..."

"I love you, darling." Her mother softly interrupted. Charlotte sniffed, trying to hold back her tears. She'd never been so happy, she felt like she might burst.

"I love you too." She replied, and she meant it with every fibre of her being.

"I'll talk to you soon."

"Alright, goodbye."

"Bye." She out down the phone and finally let out a wild shriek of happiness. She jumped up and down and ran around her room. She didn't care if she disturbed her neighbours. She didn't care if she got told off by the owner. All that mattered was that she was staying. She would get to keep her job, she would get to keep her new life, and she would get to tell Dick... Oh, she would be able to look him in the eyes and tell him that she wasn't going anywhere. Charlotte got dressed for bed, but she couldn't sleep. She laid on her bed and just listened to the rain. For the first time in what felt like an age, she felt complete, she felt safe. She felt on top of the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha ha, that was the last happy, fluffy chapter for a while. Ha ha.


	14. Chapter 14

"Don, nothing happened."

"Sure it didn't."

"No, seriously. Nothing happened."

"I believe ya."

"Nothing happened between me and Charlie!" Don narrowed his eyes suspiciously at his friend, tapping the end of his pencil against his chin in thought.

"Is that code?" He asked eventually. Dick raised his eyebrows, and began to shake his head dubiously.

"What?" He had no idea what Don was talking about, but the writer had apparently found a hidden meaning behind Dick's words. He'd just finished telling him about his and Charlie's time in Disneyland, and then about what had happened when they'd said goodnight to each other. However, it appeared that Don had incorrectly read a lot more into his account than what had actually, in all of its innocence, transpired between him and Charlotte.

"Oh, right, yeah." Don grinned wickedly. He hated being in the dark about this sort of thing, so he was impossibly happy with what Dick had shared with him. Even if he'd unwittingly got it completely wrong. "Of course.  _Nothing_  happened." Dick didn't know what he was insinuating, but he did know if Charlie heard him talking that way, then he'd be up to his ears in trouble. She hadn't come in yet, but he'd told her to come straight to the rehearsal room as soon as she arrived. If she thought that he'd been telling people that something had happened between them, she'd be furious.

"No, it didn't." He agreed with Don, his tone low and grave, but Don was still determined that something had happened, something romantic, and he would never let it go.

"I hear ya." He replied brightly, his palms raised in surrender. Dick momentarily relaxed, he thought that he'd managed to get through to his friend, but then Don winked at him and said, "Well, I gotta start getting the room ready. But, hey, well done." Dick groaned and rested his head in his hands wearily.

"Don-"

"It's okay, your secret's safe with me." The writer assured him, tapping the side of his nose conspiratorially. Dick couldn't believe this was happening to him, he was so embarrassed. Sure, they'd had some kind of a moment out there in the rain, but it wasn't in any way as passionate or maudlin as Don was making it out to be.

"Nothing happened!" He cried in frustration, but Don only smiled, nodding his head perceptively as he began to walk away from him.

" _Nothing_  happened." He repeated the code word that he'd made up. "Gotcha." Dick let out another groan and was about to walk after him, but a sudden cheery voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Hi!" He jumped and turned around to find Charlie standing there, her unalterable smile as bright as ever.

"Heeeey there, Charlotte!" He replied slowly, and he knew that his smile was noticeably awkward. He glanced over his shoulder at Don to see that he was talking in a hushed voice to his brother. Oh, God, no. He turned back to Charlie and laughed nervously, but she didn't seem to notice his unease. She had exciting news to tell him, it was taking all her might not to jump and down with elation. Across the room, as they moved a table up against the wall, Don was indeed passing on the gossip.

"Did you hear about Dick and Charlie?" He murmured, passing a furtive glance over at the pair by the doorway. Bob frowned.

"Hear about what?" He asked, shaking his head. It was strange to receive news about his brother, usually he was the first to know everything. Don grinned triumphantly, as if it was his doing that had brought Dick and Charlie together in his fabricated exposé.

" _Nothing_  happened." He whispered to the musician. Bob looked just as confused as his brother had.

"What?"

" _Nothing_  happened." Don repeated, wriggling his eyebrows for effect, but still Bob looked bewildered and rightly so. Don had completely got the wrong end of the stick, but they'd wanted Dick to ask Charlie out since the day she'd arrived, and now it appeared that he'd made all the right moves without their assistance. He was over the moon and just had to tell somebody.

"I don't..." Bob trailed off as he combined Don's cryptic words with the suggestive look he was giving him. "Oh." He finally put two and two together, but he still couldn't believe it. "Really?" Don shrugged, but he was smiling happily. Of course Dick had told Bob all about his day with Charlie, but he'd neglected to mention any advancements in their relationship. They glanced over at the pair who were deep in conversation, and saw them in a whole new light. Meanwhile Charlotte couldn't hold back any longer. She pressed her lips together to suppress her traitorous smile, then said to Dick,

"I have to talk to you about something." The musician looked surprised at the sudden change of subject but he noticed her serious demeanour and nodded.

"Okay, what's up?" He asked curiously. Charlotte glanced over his shoulder and Bob and Don, who were still moving chairs and tables out of the way in preparation for Mrs. Travers.

"Well, um..." She wasn't quite sure how to begin. She couldn't just say it outright, where was the theatricality in that? So she decided to lay down some background information first. "You know McLaren Stewart?" She asked. Dick smiled softly at her, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yeah, of course." He replied calmly, though internally, he was just as excited as Charlie. Any news that she had to tell him could only be good, right? She was already leaving, what could be worse than that? Charlotte closed her eyes, rubbing her forehead self-consciously. Of course Dick knew who he was, he'd worked at the company for years. She was just nervous, and it was mixing up her words.

"Right, yes. Well, um... He and I..." Dick raised an eyebrow then, suddenly beginning to feel quite apprehensive. "Well, we've worked very closely over the last few weeks and I've always been very interested in his work. And well, we've grown quite close..." Dick's heart dropped inside his chest, like the feeling one gets whilst on a particularly boisterous roller coaster. Surely this wasn't possible? After all this time, had he been completely blind? Had Charlie and Mac been..? Well, he supposed they were quite close and they did work together a lot. "And yesterday morning he..." Oh, God. He'd proposed to her. That's why she'd looked so dazed after Mac had left her office. He'd been a fool, a complete moron. How could he not have seen it? Charlie was getting married to McLaren Stewart and she didn't have any feelings for him at all. Oh, God. Dick felt faint. Was he going to faint? Is this what fainting felt like? Blissfully unaware of Dick's frankly ludicrous inner turmoil, Charlotte smiled broadly at her musician and finally told him what she'd been keeping secret for what felt like an age. "Dick, he's offered me a job."

Safe to say, Dick hadn't been expecting that. He felt the blood drain from his face and his jaw fall open. He suddenly realised, with no small amount of embarrassment, how senseless he'd been. He thanked God that he hadn't said any of it out loud. She wasn't getting married to Mac. She wasn't madly in love with the animator. She was staying. She was... She was staying?

"What?" He breathed, his expression softening as he realised what she'd said. Charlie carried on, completely unaware of what had gone on inside Dick's head.

"I've always been fascinated by animation and I mentioned it to him the other day, but then yesterday he came to my office and asked me if I wanted to study it here." She raised her arms and dropped them again, as if she herself still couldn't believe it had happened. "He said that he'd talked to Walt about it, who apparently was so impressed with my work for 'Mary' that he said it would be fine." Dick realised with a jolt what that meant, but he didn't want to say anything, just in case he was wrong. He took a step closer to her, his arms dropping to his sides.

"What are you saying?" He asked her quietly, his warm brown eyes never leaving hers. Charlotte's smile slowly grew as she gazed back at him and then, with a tiny, incredulous laugh, she said,

"I'm saying that I'm not leaving." The next thing she knew, her feet had left the ground and the room was spinning. Dick had let out a joyous cry and had grabbed her by the waist, picking her up and spinning her around, laughing all the way. Charlotte began to laugh too, she couldn't help herself. She was so unimaginably happy and it seemed that Dick was too. He finally put her down, setting her gently on her feet again, but his hands never left her waist.

"Oh, my God!" He breathed, shaking his head in disbelief. "That's brilliant news!" Charlotte grinned at him, not noticing how close they were. They were barely inches apart, but in their excitement, neither of them had noticed. Don and Bob had certainly noticed, but they pretended they hadn't.

"I'm glad you think so. I was worried that you'd be sick of me by now." She teased, although her head was still spinning from where he'd picked her up. She smirked and arched her eyebrows. "Now you're stuck with me." She'd meant it as a joke, but Dick was up on cloud nine and all he could think about was her, and that she wasn't leaving, and that he would never have to say goodbye to her.

"I can't think of anything more wonderful." He gabbled and he let out another loud laugh. He felt like he could fly, he was just so happy. He could hardly believe it was happening. He felt like he'd won the lottery. He suddenly noticed that his hands were still on her waist, and Charlie was very close to him, very close indeed. Now, he realised, now was the time. He could finally tell her. Dick cleared his throat and retracted his hands, choosing instead to wring them as he always did when he was nervous. "I've thought a lot about what you said and you're right." He told her, and he was so flustered and excited that his words came out in a rush. Charlotte frowned, confused by the sudden topic change, but she smiled wryly all the same.

"What did I say?" She asked him. They'd had countless conversations in the time that they'd known each other, how could he expect her to know which one in particular he was referring to? And why did he look so nervous all of a sudden? Charlie tilted her head to the side as she studied him, but Dick barely noticed.

"That you're not just pretty. You're so many other things as well." He elucidated for her. Charlotte let out an incredulous laugh, shaking her head at the ridiculous man in front of her.

"Dick, that was weeks ago!" She cried. It had only been a few days after she'd arrived when Dick had been admirably brave and told her that she was pretty. She'd completely forgotten about it, but now that he brought it up, she remembered giving him a lesson in how to compliment a woman. But that had been ages ago, was he still worried about it? They both looked around when the door to the music room opened and in hurried Dolly. She waved to them briefly before immediately getting to work helping Don and Bob with the furniture. Dick returned his attention to Charlotte, though he spoke a little quieter than before, afraid that they'd be overheard.

"I know but it's been stuck in my head," He mumbled, confirming her suspicions as he looked down at his shoes. "And now that you're staying, I..." What he'd been about to say was that, now she was staying, he could tell her what he'd wanted to confess since they'd met. But then he realised that he'd probably embarrass himself if he divulged that information, so he went in a different direction. "You're right. You're not just pretty, you're incredible. You're so clever and so funny and so, so talented. You are the literal sunshine of my life, and I know that sounds a little corny, but..." Charlotte's smile had slowly disappeared, and she was staring at the musician with her mouth hanging open. Never in a million years had she expected an admission such as this from Dick. He'd always been relatively shy, but his words were unhesitating and his voice was strong. Dick exhaled sharply and looked away for a second, as if he himself couldn't believe what he'd just admitted. Then he looked back up at her, his expression earnest. "You mean absolutely everything to me." He finished, giving her the tiniest of smiles. Charlotte's mind had gone blank, she didn't know what to say. She managed to close her gaping mouth, but it was a few seconds before she was finally able to piece together a reply.

"Wow. What a bold statement." She murmured, then she smiled that unjustly captivating smile of hers. Dick's eyes momentarily flicked down to watch her ruby lips part but managed to meet her gaze again. He swallowed thickly and let out a nervous laugh.

"I know, I can't feel my legs." He mumbled, making Charlotte chuckle. She studied him for a moment, still completely dumbfounded by his words. What he'd said was absolutely wonderful, and in all her life, she'd never thought she'd be so lucky as to have someone say such things to her. She had so many emotions rushing about inside her, she couldn't pick one to help her reply.

"I-" Her voice cracked, and she briefly looked down at the floor. "I, um..." This was ridiculous, what was she thinking? This was Richard, her Richard. She could tell him anything and talk to him for hours and hours without getting tired. So why had her words suddenly failed her now? She looked back up at him, and found her courage in his warm brown eyes. "You mean everything to me too." She whispered, and it felt like an enormous weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She'd wanted to tell him that for ages, and now she finally had, she felt free. Dick's chest fluttered, making it hard to speak, but he flashed her that ridiculously charming crooked grin, then said,

"Good. Because all I can think about right now is how much I want to kiss you again." Both Charlotte and Dick were surprised by his words, but definitely not unhappy with them. Though Charlotte's stomach was full of butterflies and her knees were wobbling, her first instinct was to coyly raise an eyebrow.

"Oh, really?" She said smoothly, and Dick suddenly forgot how to breathe. He licked his lips nervously, but nodded all the same.

"I'm positive." He replied, making Charlie laugh softly. His gaze dropped to her neck, then travelled up and across her beautiful face, as if he was trying to take a mental picture. Then he took a brave step closer to her and bent his head, their eyes locked. Charlie wanted to reach out for him, wanted to run her hands up his chest and over his shoulders, but she was so enraptured, she found she couldn't move. "Charlotte," Richard murmured, and he was so close that she could feel his breath on her cheek. "Can I kiss you?" She was fairly certain that he knew the answer to his own question, but she replied all the same.

"Y-"

"Charlie! Dick!" The two must've jumped about a foot in the air. Charlotte gasped audibly and took a step away from Dick, who looked like he was having a heart attack. Across the room, Bob was covering his mouth, trying not to laugh at the pair, whilst Don gave them an unabashed grin and gestured for them to come over. It was then that Charlotte realised that the door had just swung open and Mrs. Travers had arrived. Charlotte drew in a deep, calming breath as she looked back at Dick. She burst out laughing when she saw that he was clutching a hand to his chest, his face wrought with both shock and anger at his friend. Charlie regained her composure and walked over to meet Don and Bob, but on her way past the musician, she murmured in his ear.

"Perhaps later." Dick felt quite faint, but tried to remain casual as he followed the woman across the room. Charlotte had no idea what the boys had come up with, but according to Walt, it was a fantastic idea. She'd known that it would be, but would it impress the author? She glanced nervously at Mrs. Travers, who was still stood by the doorway, watching them all cautiously. Charlie was worried that they would upset her again, which was the last thing that she and the boys wanted. She knew that they were nervous too, but Don put on a brave face and warmly greeted their author.

"Good morning, Mrs. Travers!" He beamed at her as he finished moving one of the large drawing boards out of the way. The woman looked slightly put off by his vigour, but she soon regained her composure and sighed loudly.

"What horrors have you in store for my beautiful characters today?" She asked warily, taking note of how all the tables and chairs had been pushed aside to leave room for God knows what. Though her trepidation was obvious, they'd all seen her softer side now, and Dick and Charlie had seen how she'd smiled at Disneyland yesterday. There was no way that they could ever see her as the personification of irritability again.

"You, sit here." Don dragged a chair out from under a table and patted it, gesturing for her to take a seat. Mrs. Travers narrowed her eyes at him, but she sat down all the same.

"What're you up to?" She asked, casting her sharp gaze over every person in the room. They were all practically buzzing with excitement, even Charlie, who had no idea what they'd come up with. They all stood in a line in front of her, their hands clasped behind their backs. Anyone would say that they looked like schoolchildren standing in front of their teacher.

"We were thinking about what you said and... You're right." Don told Mrs. Travers. He shook his head, his smile almost sad. "Mr. Banks isn't cruel. He isn't. So, we have a new ending for the film." Mrs. Travers looked surprised but didn't say anything, and Don let out a whoosh of air, suddenly feeling very anxious. "Oh, God, I hope you like it." He said to her, then nodded to Dick, who got into position behind the piano. Charlotte had to hide her smile at Don's words, but then suddenly realised that she was in the way. She hurried over to stand by the doorway, not wanting to impede their performance. Whilst Don, Bob, and to her surprise, Dolly got into position, Dick sat down at the piano, fingers poised to play. Both Mrs. Travers and Charlie frowned curiously as Don and Dolly sank to their knees either side of Bob. What on Earth did they have planned?

Strangely enough, it was Bob that stepped forward first. His expression was impassive, and neither Charlie nor Mrs. Travers knew what to expect from him. Then he revealed what he'd been hiding behind his back. In his free hand was a kite. Charlotte thought she heard the author gasp, but it was so faint, she couldn't be certain. Bob carefully passed the kite to Mrs. Travers and it was almost like a peace offering. The two had had such difficulties during her stay, but this was a sign of solidarity between their opposing sides. Mrs. Travers gingerly held the kite, as if she was afraid it wasn't real. She was staring at it, her mouth slightly open, but she looked up again when Don cleared his throat and began to recite what he'd typed up in the new version of the script.

"Michael says, 'He mended it! It's wonderful!'" His voice squeaked as he tried to imitate a young boy, which was quite comical despite the somewhat solemn air in the room.

"'However did you manage it?'" Chimed in Dolly as Jane. Charlie's hand flew to her mouth as she realised what that meant, and it appeared that Mrs. Travers had caught on too.

"He mended the kite?" She realised, her voice uncharacteristically soft. Dolly nodded, smiling cheerily at the woman. Charlie turned her wide eyes to Richard, who gave her a shameless wink before he struck a chord on the piano.

"With... Tuppence for paper and strings, you can have your own set of wings." Mrs. Travers watched dubiously as the trio of performers flapped their arms, swaying from side to side with the music. Bob took the hands of Don and Dolly and he danced around with them, though awkwardly as they were still on their knees and he was leaning on his crutch. "With your feet on the ground you're a bird in flight! With your fist holding tight to the string of your kite." Charlotte let out an astonished laugh as Don and Dolly suddenly got up and began to dance along to Dick's music. They'd clearly been practising, which was sweet to think about.

"Oh, oh, oh! Let's go fly a kite! Up to the highest height!" Those who were able jumped high in the air, their arms spread wide, which made Charlie laugh again. Oh, these wonderful, wonderful people. She never wanted to say goodbye to them. She realised with a jolt that she wouldn't have to now, and her excitement increased tenfold. "Let's go fly a kite and send it soaring." They all sang jovially, their arms spread wide as if they themselves were flying. "Up through the atmosphere! Up where the air is clear! Oh, let's go fly a kite." Charlotte couldn't see Mrs. Travers' expression, but surely she must've been as amazed and astounded as she was. Don stopped dancing to step towards Mrs. Travers and carefully take the kite back from her.

"And then, Mrs. Banks runs through her house. She gets the Suffragette ribbon. And says,"

"'A proper kite deserves a proper tail, don't you think?'" Dolly grinned as she tied the sash to the end of the kite, and then it was complete. Mrs. Travers nodded, letting them know that she liked that part. Before she knew it, they were off caterwauling around the room again.

"Oh, oh, oh! Let's go fly a kite! Up to the highest height! Let's go fly a kite and send it soaring. Up through the atmosphere! Up where the air is clear! Oh, let's go fly a kite." Charlotte was watching Richard play, experimenting with the way that her heart would leap whenever she looked at him. Her mind was reeling. They could finally talk about their relationship. They could finally act on their feelings instead of keeping them locked away. Although she supposed they hadn't been very good at that bit. While such thoughts had taken over the majority of her mind, she still managed to pull herself away from them when she noticed Don slowly approach Mrs. Travers. He seemed to have seen something in her, something new, and it had given him the courage to stand before her and hold out his hand. He didn't have to say a word, Mrs. Travers knew exactly what he was asking. To everyone's, but mostly Don's, shock and amazement, Mrs. Travers accepted his offer and very soon, they were dancing across the room together.

"When you send it flying up there, all at once you're lighter than air." Charlotte could've died from happiness, she practically squealed as she watched Don and Mrs. Travers dance. Bob, who was standing by the piano now, had his mouth hanging open. Charlie decided that he was so shocked that he'd forgotten he was supposed to be singing. "You can dance on the breeze over houses and trees, with your fist holding tight to the string of your kite." Don got down on his knees again and guided Mrs. Travers around him. The older woman laughed, honest to God laughed. They'd never seen her this happy. Dick looked over at Charlie, who was still by the door and saw that she looked like she was about to cry.

"Oh, oh, oh! Let's go fly a kite! Up to the highest height!" Dolly giggled excitedly as she watched her friends and suddenly turned on her heel and ran out of the door. Charlie wasn't sure where she was going, but it was probably to tell Walt the good news. She watched as Don and Mrs. Travers joined the Shermans at the piano, singing along with all their hearts. "Let's go fly a kite and send it soaring. Up through the atmosphere! Up where the air is clear! Oh, let's go fly a kite." Dick ended the song, as always, with a flourish of notes, then threw his hands up in the air. Charlotte hugged herself as she watched them all laugh breathlessly, and though she was separate from them, she felt as if she was looking at her own family. Mrs. Travers picked up the kite they'd given her, shaking her head like she couldn't believe the last few minutes had actually happened to her.

"Oh! He fixes the kite!" She gasped, grinning at the men beside her. "Oh, I love it!" Dick looked down at the keys of the piano and his brother patted him on the back proudly. They'd finally done it. They'd finally made her happy. That's all they'd wanted from the start, and it had finally happened. Mrs. Travers' joy paired with Charlie's news was almost too much to take. Charlie. Charlotte. Dick looked up, suddenly realising that the artist wasn't there with them. He saw her, still standing by the door by herself. Her eyes were slowly travelling over each of them in turn, and for some reason, she wore a strange, sad look. When she finally got to him, her expression brightened and she gave him that smile that usually made his legs go weak, so he was glad that he was seated. Before he could talk to her, Mrs. Travers had, inevitably, found something to review about their song. "Though the proper English would be: Let  _us_  go  _and_  fly a kite." She tried singing the new line of the song as the three men shook their heads. She stopped when she realised it didn't fit quite as well as she'd have liked. "... But I might be willing to overlook that." She decided finally, scrutinising the sheet music in front of her. Dick smiled and nodded his head, he still couldn't believe that they'd managed it.

"Alright!" He said brightly, clapping his hands in triumph. Bob ruffled his little brother's hair, something he'd done since they were kids. Their plan had actually worked! They all moved away from the piano and Charlotte finally joined them in the centre of the room. "We realised we'd got it all wrong." Dick said to Mrs. Travers, smiling apologetically. Then he noticed Charlotte was stood by his side, and whilst everyone's attentions were averted, he reached down and clasped her hand in his. Charlotte didn't look around at him, but she did smile, which was enough to make him chuckle quietly.

"Mr. Banks has a good heart, not a change of heart." Don continued, trying to explain how he'd come up with the new ending. "He's always been sweet, but worried with the cares of life." Mrs. Travers' mouth fell open and for once, she was lost for words. Something told Charlotte that they'd hit the nail on the head. Finally, Mrs. Travers managed to regain control of her senses and smiled at the writer and the musicians.

"Thank you." She told them earnestly, clutching the kite tightly in her fingers. The rehearsal room door suddenly burst open and they saw it was Dolly who'd entered. She quickly told them in a rush of excitement that Walt wanted to see Pamela in his office. For once, the author did as she was asked, and accompanied the secretary out of the door, closely followed by Don. However, before she left, she turned and carefully handed the kite to Charlie. The artist wasn't sure what to say, but Mrs. Travers smiled at her kindly, and she knew that words weren't necessary. As soon as the rehearsal room door closed, Charlotte let out a jubilant shout, laughing and grinning like an idiot.

"He fixed the kite, how marvellous!" She cried excitedly, clutching the kite between her fingers as if she was afraid it and the moment might be swept away from her. Bob grinned back at her. It appeared that things were finally starting to come together for them.

"We thought you might like it. Dick was very excited to play it for you." He said happily, but then his brother shot him a look that made his grin falter a little. Charlie didn't seem to notice. She frowned at Dick, who now looked very embarrassed.

"Why for me especially?" She asked. Dick sent his brother another murderous glare before tapping his fingers distractedly against the side of his legs.

"Because I knew the idea of Mr. Banks being so cruel upset you just as much as it upset Mrs. Travers." He admitted, shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders in attempt to seem much less nervous than he actually felt. Then he gave her a small smile. "This is as much for you as it is for Pamela and the Banks'." Charlotte didn't know what to say, it was all too much. It had secretly troubled her that Mr. Banks was so unkind in the film adaption, he had always seemed so kind and hardworking in the books she loved so very much, but she hadn't told anyone about her feelings. Maybe Dick knew her better than she had originally thought.

"Thank you." She breathed, clutching the kite to her chest and smiling gratefully at the musician. Dick smiled back brightly but then immediately looked down at his feet to hide his red face. Charlotte looked between the brothers quizzically.

"Wherever did you come up with such a wonderful idea?"

"Well, actually, we got the idea from our dad, Al." Said Bob, stepping in to save his brother from anymore embarrassment. He smiled fondly at the memory. "He used to make kites for all the kids in the neighbourhood as a weekend hobby." He told her, making Charlie grin. How wonderful that the boys had got such an incredible idea from their own father. He must have been a lovely man, especially if he had raised such talented sons. She laughed, simply because she felt so incredibly happy, and reached for Bob, but not before she carefully placed the kite on the floor by her feet.

"Oh, fantastic, boys, fantastic!" She cried, kissing Bob on both cheeks. Bob gave a surprised laugh and looked down at the ground, not expecting such a zealous display of gratitude. She turned to Dick next and placed her hands on the tops of his arms, just below his shoulders, her fingers curling around the material of his shirt.

"You like it?" He asked, wearing a grin that matched hers.

"I love it." She replied, leaning forward and repeating the gesture, placing a firm kiss on each cheek.

"Good, I'm glad." Dick said, and he truly was. If it made her happy, it made him happy. There was suddenly and uproarious cry from outside and all three heads turned to see what was going on. Bob smiled when he realised it was DaGradi, obviously pleased with the outcome of the little meeting.

"I'd better go check on him." He said, chuckling to himself as he limped out of the room. Charlotte laughed too, she was so very glad that everyone was happy and getting along finally. When she looked back at Richard, not only did she see that he was laughing too, but also that her kiss had left a mark on him.

"Oh, dear, I've got lipstick on your cheek." She tutted irritably, reaching up a hand and resting it on the side of his face. Her fingers covered the length of his jawline whilst her thumb moved across his cheek, trying to wipe away the bright red mark she'd left there. Dick felt his face grow hot and was worried that she might feel it, which only made him feel more embarrassed. But her cool hand continued to rest on his cheek, her thumb brushing gently and sweetly against his skin. "There." She murmured, her eyes returning to meet his. "All gone." She had successfully removed the lipstick stain, but for some reason, she didn't remove her hand. Her thumb continued to slide across his cheek, a little slower now. It was so calming, so familiar, and it made Dick's chest clench. Her warm hazel eyes travelled all over his face, as if she were taking notes on the exact colour of his eyes, the faint freckles and marks on his skin, and the shape and curve of his lips.

This was the closest they'd ever been. That was, of course, apart from the time they had... Well, since they had kissed. But that had been truly professional up until those last few moments of, well, he didn't know what. Now, they were alone and there was no camera on them and no director telling her what to do. Still her hand rested on his cheek, her thumb never ceasing its calming movement. Dick closed his eyes and leaned into her touch with a gentle sigh. Finally her thumb stilled and they seemed impossibly close. Had one of them stepped closer? He couldn't be sure. They stayed there, silent and still, touching more intimately than they'd ever done so before, but still, it didn't seem like enough. There was suddenly a loud bang as the doors to the music room swung open and in stepped Don, laughing raucously and clapping his hands.

"It's a hit! The Ice Lady loves it!" He cried happily. Charlie and Richard jumped apart, their hearts both thumping hard. Don stopped when he realised that he'd walked in on something private and looked uncertainly between the pair. Charlotte cleared her throat and smoothed down the front of her dress. She didn't look at Richard.

"Right, well, I think I'm going to find myself a glass of water." She said, smiling tightly at Don. She nodded to both the men. "Excuse me." She muttered before striding out of the room as if nothing had happened. Don watched her leave then turned back to Dick, who was looking a little lost.

"I didn't interrupt anything, did I?" He asked awkwardly. He knew full well that there was most definitely something going on between the artist and the musician. Dick was staring at the door Charlie had just left through and shook his head faintly.

"No, uh, no. It was, uh..." He fumbled for a moment, not sure where to go from there. But luckily, Don knew the answer to his own question and quickly moved on before he could come up with one.

"Come on, help me move the furniture back."

* * *

Charlotte had scurried off to her office where she was trying to calm herself down. She was bursting with excitement. She and Dick could finally do something about their relationship, now that they were actually putting their feelings into practice, she suddenly felt panicky. She'd been waiting for this day for so long, but now it was finally here, she didn't know whether she was quite ready or not. She adored Richard, she truly did, but the freedom they had now was new territory. They could say anything, they could do anything. The thought was blowing her mind, so much so that it had short-circuited and she'd had to hurry out of the room.

Charlie rested her hands on her hips, trying to pull herself together as she took in three deep, soothing breaths. She knew she was being ridiculous, but her feelings for Richard were so damn big, she was afraid of them. She'd never felt this way about anyone before, she wasn't sure how to go about it. Richard had been on her mind since the day they'd met, but those thoughts hadn't always been romantic. He was her best friend, that was the man that she'd fallen for. She was being stupid, there was no reason to be frightened of her feelings, and it was very clear, it had been for a long time, that her feelings were reciprocated. There was no reason to be afraid.

That's why later, after she'd done some work, she met the three men as they were leaving the rehearsal room. They'd had a very successful day and they were all in high spirits, which was why their greeting was a little more boisterous than usual. They were all ready to go home, so they left as a group. As they passed through reception, Don stopped to talk with Tommie about scheduling a meeting with Walt tomorrow. Bob, Dick and Charlie waited for him, and whilst the eldest Sherman began to speak with Dolly about their earlier performance, Charlie finally managed to talk to Dick alone. She reached out and straightened out his jacket collar for him whilst she spoke. Neither of them noticed the telephone ring.

"Richard, you darling man." She murmured, her eyes travelling up his chest before meeting his gaze. "Have dinner with me tonight." The look she gave him just about took his breath away, but he did eventually manage a reply. Neither of them noticed when Dolly asked who was calling.

"Okay." He breathed, licking his lips nervously. Charlotte beamed up at the man she adored, and for the first time in her life, she felt like things were finally perfect. But then she heard someone calling her name. She looked over her shoulder at Dolly, her eyebrows drawn together in confusion. The secretary was holding the telephone receiver away from her ear, her hand pressed against the speaker so that whoever it was that was calling couldn't hear her talking.

"Charlie? I've got someone on the phone for you." She said, and she too seemed surprised by the call. Looking back, Charlotte should have immediately guessed that something was wrong. She knew very few people, and only a small percentage of them knew about her job in California. In retrospect, she should have known that the caller would not bear happy news.

"Oh?" She asked, stepping closer towards her desk. Dolly nodded, her lips all twisted with uncertainty.

"He says his name's Doctor Lyons, it's about your mom." Looking back, Charlotte should have immediately guessed that something was wrong. But the idea that something bad could happen on that perfect day was out of the question. That's why it had felt like the sky was falling down. Her stomach felt like it'd disappeared, but she felt sick. Her head span and she couldn't see straight, couldn't think straight. The only thing that stopped her from falling to the floor was that she managed to grab hold of the edge of the desk. Dick immediately rushed to her side, putting his arm around her protectively. He kept asking her if she was alright, asking her what was wrong, but she couldn't hear anything apart from the ringing in her ears. As if in slow motion, she saw Dick reach out for the phone.

"I'll take that, Dolly." He said quickly. He had no idea. She hadn't told him yet. She'd thought she would have more time. "Hello, Dick Sherman speaking." He paused, and she could faintly hear the Doctor's voice coming through the speaker. "I'm a friend of Charlotte's, she can't come to the phone right now. Yes, she's here. No, I don't think- Just tell me and I'll- Yeah, I'm sure that'll be..." Charlotte wanted to tell him to stop, to put the phone down and forget all about it, but her voice wasn't working. "Oh, God." Dick murmured, his eyes growing wide. Charlotte bowed her head, her grip on the desk turning her knuckles white. "Okay. Okay, I'll tell her. Yes. Yes. Okay. I'll have her call you back. Okay, thanks Doc." He stared at the phone for a moment before passing it back to Dolly. Then, with a solemnity she had never imagined she'd see him bearing, he began to speak to her, to pass on the message she already knew. "Charlie?" The artist shook her head, her curls bouncing around her shoulders.

"No." She pleaded, she didn't want to hear it. Dick gritted his teeth, but knew he had to continue.

"It's your mom." If Charlotte's legs had been working properly, she would've got down on her knees and begged.

"Please, don't." Dick glanced at his brother and Dolly before he took a step closer to her. He didn't want to announce it for the whole world to hear, it was best if he just told her.

"She's very sick." He said in an undertone, trying to keep his voice from wavering for her sake. "The Doctor said... He said she's dying."

The next few minutes passed in a blur. Charlotte could remember falling down, and Dick's arms around her, trying to support her. She remembered wailing and screaming like a child as he half-carried her back to her room, away from anyone else. She remembered falling to her knees in her office. The room, which had once been so colourful and bright, had been disfigured by her anguish. What had felt like a second home to her had been warped into a dark, empty place. Dick pulled her into his arms and she pressed her face into his shoulder, sobbing so hard that her whole body shook. They sat there on the floor for what felt like hours.

Finally, the storm passed, and the last of Charlie's tears fell. They were still on the floor, their backs up against cupboard doors. Dick had his legs stretched out in front of him, and hers were drawn up to her chest. Her head was resting on his shoulder, and his arm was still around her, but she was all cried out. Her cheeks were sore from her tears and her eyes stung. She was exhausted and so was Dick, but still he continued to soothe her, resting his chin on top of her head and stroking her arm attentively. When she finally spoke, her throat felt raw.

"I want to go home." She whispered, though her voice still burned in her throat. Dick looked down at her, knowing that she meant back home to England, not to her hotel room, but that was the best that he could do. He sighed and kissed the top of her head before struggling to his feet. He held out his hands to her.

"C'mon." He murmured, and she let him help her to her feet.

Her expression stayed blank for the entirety of the taxi ride. Dick had never seen her like that before. It scared him a little, but he knew that he had to stay strong for her. Instead of leaving her at the hotel entrance as he usually did, he accompanied Charlie upstairs to her room. Dick sat on the edge of her bed as he waited for her to get changed into her nightclothes, his hands clasped together. When Charlotte finally reappeared, she looked so lost and unlike herself, he almost didn't recognise her. She was the epitome of poise and control, so self-assured and clever that he always felt three steps behind her, but now she looked like a little girl, her face pale and taut.

"I can stay, if you like." He offered as he rose to his feet, making her look up. Her eyes were pale and dull, no longer shining. He looked down at his feet, embarrassed about even suggesting it. "I don't like the idea of you being here all on your own." He mumbled. Charlotte shook her head slightly, waving him off with an airy hand.

"I'll be fine." She replied. Though the rest of her still seemed grieved, her voice was starting to return to her. That was something that he'd always liked about her, her strong, stable voice and her accent that made all her words staccato, but he had to protest, there was no way that she was at all 'fine'.

"Charlie-"

"Dick, it's fine." She interrupted him firmly, and for a moment, she was like her old self. She even gave him a minuscule smile, but it wasn't quite the same. "I'm through the worst of it now." She assured him, tucking her hair behind her ear subconsciously. "Thank you. For everything. You've been... Just, thank you." Dick immediately batted away what to him was unnecessary gratitude.

"It's nothing." He replied, looking down at his shoes again. He pursed his lips before finally admitting, "I care about you. A lot." He chanced a looked up at her, and was glad to see her smiling.

"I care a lot about you too." She told him, and for a moment, her eyes regained their shine. Dick smiled back, his nervousness sending his hands deep into his pockets. Then he gave her a farewell nod and made his way to the door. "Goodnight, Dick."

"Night, Charlie."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry


	15. Chapter 15

Let it not be said that the English know how to give up easily. The very idea of panicking in a crisis is abominable. They carry on, they do not give up, they do not give in. The same was true of Charlie, who had survived a war of the whole wide world and whose father had been cruelly stolen from her. Now it appeared that her mother would have the same fate. Although nobody would say that Charlotte Johnson-Liddle, being a kind, bright woman, deserved to have such tragedies interrupt her life, that was not how the world worked. It does not matter how kind and bright you are, no one is safe from Fate. With this knowledge in mind and the strength of her ancestors, the dragon slayers and the Kings and Queens, she kept her chin up and went into work as if she didn't feel like her world was crashing down around her. She poked her head around the door of the rehearsal room and said a quick, cheery hello to her friends. They all jumped to their feet, their expressions grim. It appeared that although the English thought it best to carry on, the Americans thought it best to at least take a moment to grieve.

"How is everyone?" She inquired merrily, her curls swishing about her shoulders as she marched into the room. The boys looked between themselves with expressions varying from shock to confusion. They couldn't understand why this woman, who had crumpled before their eyes at the news of her mother, was now as jolly as ever. Though none of them had answered her question, Charlotte smiled and said, "Well, I'll be in my office if you need me." Then she turned on the spot and marched right back out of the room. This was very peculiar behaviour, and all eyes turned to Dick, for he knew her the best out of all of them. But although he wanted desperately to run after the woman he adored, Dick felt that asking her about what had occurred yesterday would only trigger more strife. Even if he had wanted to chase after her, it would have been impossible, because soon after Charlie paced out of the room, Mrs. Travers swept in to take her place. She looked surprised to find them all standing to attention, but took it as a sign of respect and smiled wonderfully at her team.

"Good morning, gentlemen." She greeted them, her tone light with a never before seen warmth. Charlie's oddness had not been forgotten but they were all so pleased that they had charmed Mrs. Travers that they immediately went about their work before she changed her mind.

Throughout the day, they showed her a few more songs, including 'Feed the Birds'. This was not only Dick and Charlie's favourite song from the soundtrack- Bob liked 'Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious' whilst Don favoured 'Love to Laugh'- but also Walt Disney's as well. As Dick played the author the charming tune, sadness began to well in his chest. The song itself had a nostalgic, heart-tugging quality to it, but the happy memory of him and Charlie sitting side by side at the piano seemed to have taken place so long ago. Though outwardly she was expressing a determined sort of happiness, he knew that underneath, she was miserable, and that hurt more than anything. As he finished the last chord of the song, he looked over the piano and thought for a moment that he saw Mrs. Travers wiping her eyes. Though he didn't want the woman to be upset, it was wonderful to know that she found the song so touching.

"Beautiful." She praised him, surprising them all with her amiability. Despite her obvious display of unheeded joy yesterday, they continued to find her new attitude surprising. Well, Dick supposed, it wasn't a new side to Mrs. Travers at all. She'd always been lovely really, just like Mr. Banks.

Charlie stayed on his mind for the entirety of the day. He was worried about her. Nobody could be that stiff and unfeeling after such terrible news. He knew she was putting on a façade, designed to make them and herself feel better, but it wouldn't last forever and they both knew it.

"So, Jolly Holiday's in?" Don asked Mrs. Travers, hoping that with her newfound cordiality she would permit some of the songs she had been so opposed to in the past. Fortunately for him, he was correct. Mrs. Travers had been anxious about their take on her beloved characters. At first it had seemed as if these bright men, just like their boss, were only creating the film to generate millions for the company, but now she could see them as they really were, as they too could now see her. Through their rewriting of the script and the wonderful, uplifting final song, they'd demonstrated that they did understand her characters and assured her that they cared about them just as much as she did.

"By all means." She replied, and she was delighted when her permission lit up the faces of the men.

"Wonderful!" Don said happily, glancing at his co-workers who were sat at Charlie's desk, also taking admin of the final soundtrack. They wanted to make sure that they had Mrs. Travers' approval on every song they were to put forward to Walt.

"I do have a question about it actually." Continued the author, who was resting her arm against the piano. The change in her character was clear from her physicality. She'd visibly relaxed, no longer the stoic, prim woman who had stalked through the door a few weeks ago. Even her clothes were different, much more loose and free. "How in the world does Mr. Disney propose to train all the penguins to dance?" Don slowly looked up from his notebook, a feeling of dread starting to settle over him. He prayed with all his might that the marvellous atmosphere in the room would not be short-lived, but that was where Mrs. Travers' question was leading them, and there was nothing he could to stop it. "I've heard about his implausibly leaved trees. So, I presume he does have some insane penguin wrangling scheme, but it does seem rather far-fetched, even for him." The Sherman brothers both gawked at the woman. They couldn't decide whether she was joking or not, but then Bob began to look uncomfortable. He, like Don, had quickly realised where this would end. Dick however was blissfully ignorant of the ramifications of Mrs. Travers' curiosity. The author twisted her mouth in thought. "Can you train a penguin to dance?" She asked, and if the situation had been different, they probably would have all laughed at such a silly prospect, but now their new relationship with the author was teetering dangerously, and if they didn't answer correctly, it'd all be dashed in an instant.

"No. I don't think you can train..." Don began, but he faltered towards the end. He supposed if he hadn't, then Dick wouldn't have jumped in to help him, but by the time he'd realised that, it was too late.

"They're animated." The youngest Sherman put in, looking quizzically at the author. He was surprised that she would think they'd go to such lengths as to train live penguins when they had an entire animation studio under their hat. Mrs. Travers' face fell as she stared at Richard, her smile returning to its usual downward position.

"They're what?" She asked, her voice catching slightly. Surely he couldn't be serious? Not after all they'd been through.

"Dick." Don shot the musician a sharp glare but he wasn't looking his way. Beside him, Bob rested his head in his hands, trying to will his brother to stop talking.

"Cartoons." Dick reiterated for her, smiling away happily. He'd completely forgotten about her aversion to animation, and even if he had recollected, he would probably have assumed that she wouldn't mind it now, what with her change of character. He drew a little squiggle in the air to illustrate his point, still blithely unaware of what he'd done.

"Dick." Don hissed again, but by then it was too late. Mrs. Travers' mouth was slightly agape, her gaze returning to DaGradi. The worst part was, she looked utterly betrayed. They'd promised her that there wouldn't be any animation in the picture. They'd promised. Don couldn't bear the expression on her face and had to look away. Dick looked between his brother and his friend, frowning at them in bewilderment.

"What?" He asked, not sure what he'd said that was so bad. He looked back at Mrs. Travers, who looked utterly humiliated. Before they could say another word in their defence, Mrs. Travers' mouth snapped shut and she pushed herself away from the piano. The men all groaned inwardly but made no move to follow her. There was no point, nothing could stop her. Dick still looked befuddled, and his eyes widened as a thought popped into his head. "Are we getting real penguins?" He asked Don, who rolled his eyes in reply.

Only a few minutes later, they heard hurried footsteps coming their way. They all braced for impact, fearing it was Mrs. Travers coming back to give them all a good thrashing, but Dick relaxed when he heard the clicking of heels on the marble floor, realising before the others that it wasn't their crabby author. Charlie's face was pale and wrought with confusion when she appeared in the doorway. Though she was a much more welcome sight than Mrs. Travers, it very quickly dawned on them that Charlotte could be just as intimidating as the author. She stalked into the room, her hazel eyes quick and sharp.

"What's going on?" She demanded of them, her hands planted firmly on her hips. "Dolly has just told me that Mrs. Travers is very, very upset." Dolly, clearly fearing for her life, had rushed to find refuge in Charlie's office and had gone on to tell her how the author had burst into Disney's office with a face like thunder. Don was the elected speaker for the group and he just about gabbled through an answer.

"Mrs. Travers, she was fine, she was happy!"

"But then somebody had to tell her about the penguins!" Bob added, then he took his rolled up script and thumped his brother with it. Dick jumped and sent his brother an injured look.

"Hey!" He cried, trying to rub his shoulder better. Charlotte looked at them all in turn, her nose wrinkled as she tried to process what they'd told her.

"Penguins?" She repeated. Why did that ring a bell? What could possible so upsetting about- Charlie suddenly remembered, as they had, about Mrs. Travers' repulsion at the idea of animation in her film. She groaned, running her fingers through her hair with frustration. "Oh, those bloody penguins!" She shouted suddenly, but she hadn't meant her cry to be quite so passionate. They all watched in a respectful silence as Charlotte tapped her fingers against her lips in thought. Then without another word, she turned on her heel and began to walk back the way she'd come. It was Dick who felt brave enough to call after her first.

"Charlie?" When she looked over her shoulder at him, she was halfway out of the door. He shook his head slightly, his shoulders all hunched with anxiety. "Where're you going?" Charlotte scoffed, as if she was disappointed with his question.

"After her, of course!" She replied haughtily. Before she could take another step, she saw Dick close his eyes wearily and shake his head again.

"What? No, c'mon." He groaned. To him, there was no point in following the author. She would be furious beyond belief, there was no way that they could get her back in that room, but Charlotte was determined. She liked to be in control, to have a firm footing, but yesterday's events had knocked her for six. She couldn't stop her mum from being ill, but she could try to stop Mrs. Travers from leaving.

"I'll bring her back, I promise." She called over her shoulder to her friends. She waved to them, smiling quickly before she sped off down the corridor. "I'll see you all later!" The three men watched her leave, wondering why they couldn't ever just have a normal, relaxing day at work.

Charlie ran towards the reception where Dolly had said the author would be, but when she got there, she was nowhere to be found. Tommie and Dolly were talking quietly amongst themselves, but looked up interestedly when Charlie burst in. The artist frowned at them quizzically.

"Where is she?" She asked. They were so surprised to see her, that the only response she got was Dolly's point towards the exit. Charlie thanked her before taking off again, tearing down the corridors after Mrs. Travers. She would not let her get away. They'd come so far and worked too hard for it to end like this. As she exited the main building, she had to apologise to a man who she almost knocked off his feet in her rush, but she was soon moving again. Mrs. Travers wasn't in the lot, which meant that she'd already left in her car. Without really thinking about what she was doing, she jogged across the lot and out of the studios, ignoring Doug's annoyed shout as she rushed past his booth. She stood by the side of the road and flung her hand out, hoping to flag down a cab as quickly as possible. "Taxi!" Almost immediately, as if they'd known she was in a hurry, a yellow taxi pulled up beside her. When she saw who the driver was, her jaw dropped. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me." She muttered. The driver rolled his window down and when he saw her face, he looked just as shocked as she did. "You!" She cried, pointing an accusatory finger at the taxi driver. Jimmy's eyes were wide as he mirrored her gesture back at her.

"You!" He parroted. Charlie wanted to have a go at him, she really did, but there was simply no time for it. She heaved an exasperated sigh and reached for the door handle.

"I'll talk to you about this later. Just take me to the Beverly Hills Hotel." She told him briskly. Jimmy sighed, feeling just as unlucky as Charlotte, but he yanked the car away from the side of the road and joined the flurry of midday traffic. For once, Charlotte's was glad of his blatant disregard for the speed limit, as they reached the splendid hotel in no time. She ordered him to wait outside before running up to the building. Once inside, she tried to calm herself down. It was a nice place, they weren't going to help her if they thought she was a madwoman. Tugging at her dress to try and straighten it out, she half walked, half ran up to the reception desk. Behind it stood a smiley, plump woman with black cat eye glasses. She beamed at Charlotte as she approached the desk, waiting patiently for her request. "Good afternoon," Began Charlotte, after she'd managed to get her breath back. "I'm looking for P. L. Travers, has she recently checked in?" The kind looking woman gave her an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry, ma'am." She said gently, sensing Charlie's desperation. "I can't give out that kind of information about our guests." Charlie really didn't want to badger the poor woman, but she needed to retrieve the author no matter what.

"Please, it's an emergency." She told her, which wasn't exactly a lie, but still the woman wouldn't budge. Charlie suddenly had an idea and pressed her palms together as if she were begging. "She's my mother and we've just had a big fight. We're new to California." Again, this wasn't a complete lie, but she still felt bad about telling the kind woman such falsehoods. She tried her best to seem upset and leaned a little further over the desk, giving the woman a pleading look. "Please, I need to know if she made it here safely." She said, and felt quite proud of her own acting when her voice cracked a little. The woman pressed her lips together indecisively as she studied Charlotte, but then after a moment she smiled softly.

"Well, okay." She conceded, and Charlotte thanked her lucky stars that this particularly sweet concierge had been on duty. The woman opened the large, red book which contained the names and details of all who were staying in the grand hotel and ran her finger down the list until she found the one she was looking for. "Actually," She said curiously. "She did come in but..." She looked up at Charlie, a worried frown on her face. "Says here she checked out about ten minutes ago." Charlotte instantly forgot about her act and blinked at the woman.

"As in she's gone?" She checked, only realising how simple she sounded once she'd said it out loud. But the woman nodded, still looking worried.

"Yes, her stay was terminated early." She reiterated for her. Then she cracked a smile, perhaps trying to lighten the mood. "Wow, sure was a big fight, huh?" Charlie let out a long breath and shook her head.

"Oh, you've no idea." She agreed, then got straight back to business. "Do you know where she went?" The woman gave her another apologetic smile and shook her head.

"Sorry, ma'am." Charlotte groaned, kneading her temples with agitated fingers. Where could she be? Where would she go? She didn't know the city that well, if she wasn't at her hotel, then there was nowhere else for her to go. Charlie tried to put herself in the author's shoes. Yesterday, when she'd felt as awful as Mrs. Travers did now, the only place she'd wanted to go was... Oh.

"Oh, my God." She breathed, making the little concierge perk up. She clearly found the whole thing quite exciting and was aching to hear her idea. "She's leaving." Charlotte realised. "She's going home!" Without another word, she pushed herself off the reception desk and ran back the way she came through the hotel lobby.

"Good luck, ma'am!" The woman called after her. Charlie stopped running and waved back to her.

"Thank you!" She replied, then noticed the disgruntled looks of the hotel guests. "Sorry for shouting in your lovely hotel!" She added, before spinning around and hurrying out the door. She jumped back in the taxi, startling her driver with her sudden appearance. "Jimmy, step on it!"

"Where to?"

"The airport!" The young man whooped with joy whilst he turned on the engine.

"Boy, you're the most exciting passenger I ever had." He told her, and he grinned like a maniac all the way to the airport. As she settled back into her seat, Charlie suddenly realised the gravity of the situation. Mrs. Travers was leaving completely. This was no longer an empty threat or a sharp jibe, she was really leaving. She'd thought she would just have to coax her out of her hotel room then accompany her back to the studios where they could all apologise and get on with their work. However, it seemed that the situation had gotten progressively dire. She just hoped they caught her in time. They were a few minutes behind Mrs. Travers, but fortunately, due to Jimmy's driving, they made it to their destination in record time. As he steered them through the crowded lane, Charlotte scanned the crowds for the one woman she was looking for. Then, even if at first she didn't believe her own eyes, she picked the familiar curly brown hair and tweed jacket out of the mêlée.

"There she is! Stop, stop, stop!" She shouted to Jimmy, who slammed on the breaks. Without even stopping to thank her driver, Charlotte clambered out of the taxi and pushed her way through the crowd. "Mrs. Travers! Mrs. Travers!" Pamela thankfully stopped and turned around, fixing Charlie with a quizzical frown as she skidded to a halt in front of her.

"Charlotte?" Pamela was surprised to say the least. Though she knew she'd caused yet another stir, she hadn't expected one of her designated team to come running after her. And why was Charlie here? She hadn't worked that closely with her, if there was anyone that should've come after her, it should've been one of the brothers or DaGradi. Charlotte put her hands on her hips as she sucked in a deep breath, trying to slow down her racing heart. Though she'd been driven for most of her chase, she was still wildly out of breath.

"Please don't leave." She croaked once she'd gotten her voice back. She shook her head miserably. "You can't, you simply can't." Pamela titled her head in that cocky, I-know-better way that had almost driven the musicians and writer up the wall.

"My dear girl, of course I can, and I will." She said simply, then turned her back on her. She managed a few brisk steps before Charlie caught up with her and blocked her path. Jimmy, who'd stuck around to watch, couldn't help but admire the girl's determination.

"No, I mean you shouldn't." The artist corrected herself, finding it hard not to roll her eyes. "Mrs. Travers, we're never going to hurt your books, they will always be there. No one in the world is going to touch the books. We're using these characters that you created, and we're telling one story, not a series of incidents." Mrs. Travers suddenly looked quite angry. She pointed sharply in the vague direction of the studios.

"But I didn't write this!" She cried. She couldn't work out why no one could understand her point to of view and it was dreadfully frustrating. Charlotte threw her arms in the air, completely giving up on her manners and beginning to argue with the author.

"You inspired the whole thing; it was you!" She shot back. When Mrs. Travers didn't say anything, she took her chance and continued. "What you have here," She said, her voice a little calmer as she tried to get back on track. "It's extraordinary." Pamela was a little taken-aback, this wasn't at all what she'd expected.

"Now, I don't think-" She tried, but Charlotte was determined. This woman's books meant the world to her and her mother. They had taught her so much growing up, she still tried to act as Mary Poppins would've liked her to. They had brought her across the Atlantic to a place she'd never thought she'd see and she'd met the most wonderful people. She thought it was finally time that Mrs. Travers knew how much they meant to her.

"This film, it's going to be wonderful." She said, her voice quiet but firm. "Thousands, possibly even millions of people are going to fall in love with Mary Poppins, the same way that I have, and the same way Dick, and Bob, and Don, and Walt and all the others have." Mrs. Travers still looked unconvinced. Charlie sighed and shook her head, finding it hard to explain herself to a woman who could only see reason. "I know you miss your home. Heaven knows, I miss mine." Pamela paused for a moment, her lips pressed into a thin line as she studied the younger woman.

"Your mother." She said and saw the girl flinch. "Dick told me." Charlotte frowned and began to reply, but Pamela knew what she was going to say. "But only after I practically bullied it out of him. Don't worry, he didn't let it out easily." This seemed to satisfy the girl, but still she looked pained.

"I miss her so, so much." She admitted, glancing towards the airport that could take her home if she so wished. But she was getting side-tracked. She'd promised that she'd bring Mrs. Travers back and that's what she was going to do. She turned back to the author with renewed determination, she wouldn't let her go without a fight. "I can't stop you from leaving, but I can tell you," She shook her head, drawing herself up to her full height. "No, I can  _promise_  you that this film, it's going to change the world. People will be watching Mary Poppins, and Bert, and Jane, and Michael, and their parents for generations to come. They will live forever, loved by countless people over and over again. You have to believe me." Mrs. Travers seemed uncharacteristically moved by her words and she gave Charlotte a rare, honest to God smile.

"I do believe you." She said gently, bending down and placing her small suitcase on the ground. "And I believe that when you make a promise, you mean it." Charlie smiled and nodded, happy at least that the woman knew she had meant what she'd said. But though Mrs. Travers' kind words had made it seem like she'd given in, her mind had unfortunately not been changed. "But I must leave. This world... It's not for me." Charlotte felt her smile falter and her fists fell open as the fight in her dissipated. It had been a long shot, but for a moment there, she'd really thought that Pamela might not leave. Charlie nodded sadly and looked down at the ground. She'd done all she could, at least she'd tried. But what would she tell the boys when she got back? They'd be so disappointed. Mrs. Travers looked thoughtfully at the woman before her, her head cocked slightly to the side. Then she raised her chin, having come to a decision about something. "Come with me." She said finally. Charlie slowly looked up, her mouth hanging slightly open in a manner that Pamela would have found quite unladylike if the situation had been different.

"What?" Charlotte breathed, her eyes narrowed uncertainly. Pamela nodded briskly, feeling sure that her suggestion had been a good one.

"Come with me." She repeated, even though she usually hated doing so. "We can easily buy you a ticket. And I suppose it wouldn't take you too long to pack your things." As she said this, she gestured over to Charlotte's taxi, which still sat by the side of the road. Jimmy waved cheerily back at them, but they both ignored him.

"I..." Charlie began, not sure what to say. It would be wonderful to go home and see her mother. She was so very ill now. She couldn't imagine how awful it would feel to not see her again before she passed on. But leaving had consequences. She couldn't just go, could she? What about her job and her friends and... Richard. What about him. Her heart plummeted. She was torn between two worlds, her home and her new life. But in all honesty, London didn't feel like home anymore. Now she'd had a taste or freedom, of independence, and she didn't want to go back. But her mother was the only family she had left. She was dying, she couldn't abandon her because she'd found something new. Mrs. Travers sensed she was finding the choice difficult and felt sympathy for the girl.

"Think about it." Pamela said, resting her hand in the girl's shoulder in an unexpected display of affection. "You've got a little while until the plane leaves." Charlie bit her lip, starting to feel a sick with anxiety.

"The thing is, Mrs. Travers..." She said slowly, and she found, with a tug of dread, that she was just as much trying to explain it to herself as she was to the author. "If I leave, I won't be able to come back." If she returned to London, she would have to look after the house after her mother died. She would have to return to her old job, as she had promised them she would. Pamela nodded understandingly, a sad smile on her thin lips.

"Think about it." She said gently, picking up her suitcase again and making her way towards the terminal. Charlotte felt sick. The pull of her home did outweigh what was keeping her in L.A, but there were so many things that would change. And she couldn't just leave, she'd have to... Charlotte suddenly spotted a payphone on the other side of the street and felt her shoulders slump. She knew what she was going to do, and it was so very painful. She hurried back to her taxi, which was still waiting by the curb. Jimmy had been watching their whole conversation with great interest, shooing away any potential patrons who wanted a ride. Once she was safely settled inside, she took a deep breath before stating,

"Jimmy, I'm sorry for the trouble I've caused you, but I'd like you to take me to my hotel now, please." The young man turned around in his seat and started the car. He was uncharacteristically silent. Charlie leaned her elbow against the shelf attached to her door, then rested her head on her palm. The last half hour had been chaotic beyond words. It felt as if her cross-city hunt hadn't happened, her travels were just a blur inside her head. She hadn't had a coherent thought since yesterday, but now she had clarity. She needed to go home.

Although it hurt, she knew it was for the best. The awful thing was, she'd been frightfully excited about living in America for good. She'd dreamed about it since she was a little girl. Now, selfish as it was, she felt like it had been taken from her. As Jimmy guided her through the bustling city, she turned her thoughts to the life she might have led there. A life, perhaps, spent with Richard. Oh, Richard. The thought of going back on her word was dreadful. He'd looked so happy when she'd told him she was staying. She was only glad that she wouldn't have to see his face when she told him that it had been a lie.

Then there was the added problem of her employment, both in California and London. The Walt Disney studios felt like home now, but it was still a business. She would have to call and apologise before she left. She hoped they wouldn't be too cross with her. Then there was the issue of her job back in London. She'd told them before she left that she would only be gone for two weeks, three at the most. But her stay had stretched to almost a month. They hadn't tried to reach her yet, so perhaps she was safe, but there was still the worry that when she got back, her job wouldn't be there waiting for her. All these fears and anxieties were making it impossibly hard to stick to her decision, but she soon realised that running from her problems wasn't going to help. She needed to face them with courage and determination, then and only then would they be conquered. She only wished that they could be defeated there in this lovely city where a lovely man had told her that she meant everything to him.

Jimmy shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He wanted to speak up about what he'd witnessed, but, although they'd met on multiple occasions, he didn't actually  _know_  the woman sitting in the back of his cab. He knew her name, her place of work, her friend, Dick, but that was it. She was a stranger, but still he felt the need to speak to her.

"Your Majesty?" He asked quietly, trying not to sound as nervous as he felt. He watched in the rearview mirror as his passenger raised her head and her clever eyes met his. "I know it's none of my business," He went on. "But I think you're making the wrong decision here." The woman looked surprised, she hadn't expected that. He thought it best to continue before she could berate him for his impertinence. "You've got a great gig here, ma'am. And that fella of yours is head over heels for ya." Charlie looked away from him then, and he saw her jaw clench. "I don't wanna make this harder for you, but I just thought you should make sure you're making the right choice." He added quickly, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. He returned his gaze to the road, now that the traffic was moving again. There was a terrible silence, but only for a moment.

"You're right, it's none of your business." Charlotte said tartly. Jimmy pressed his lips together, he'd worried that he would be pushing it too far.

"Sorry, miss." He told her softly, and his innocent tone reminded her that he was only a young man. Charlie sighed wearily and looked back out of the window. It was nice of Jimmy to worry about her, but she'd made her decision. There was no turning back now. They soon arrived at her hotel, which was a lot less grand than Mrs. Travers' but that didn't matter now. It didn't take her long to pack her things, she had brought few commodities with her across the pond. Then she hopped into the loyal taxi for the last time and it was back to the airport.

She thanked Jimmy generously for his admirable efforts and vast patience. She even kissed his cheek, which sent the poor boy into a stupor. Mrs. Travers had been right, it wasn't difficult to purchase a ticket, even though the aeroplane would start boarding in twenty minutes. Charlie checked in her bags, then screwed her courage to the sticking-place and exited the airport. She hurried across the street to the telephone box she'd spied earlier and thumbed a few coins into the slot in the phone. As she raised the telephone to her ear, she saw Mrs. Travers on the other side of the road, standing just inside the airport. The author gave her a curt nod which she returned just as a voice spoke in her ear.

"Hello, Directory Enquiries? I need a number."

At her desk, Dolly was idly painting her nails a cheery, yellow colour when the phone rang. She made a surprised noise and put the lid back on the pot next to her notepad and typewriter. She blew on her nails briefly before she picked up the telephone.

"Hello, Walt Disney Studios!" She chirped. She had been expecting a friend of Walt's or a business associate, so she was surprised when she recognised the voice.

"Dolly, hi! It's Charlie." Dolly smiled excitedly and leaned back in chair now that she knew she didn't have to be professional. She blew on her nails again as she spoke to her friend.

"Oh, hi! We were just talking about you. Where did you rush off to so fast?" She teased. On the other end of the line, Charlie was rubbing her temple with her fingers. As much as she liked Dolly, the woman didn't have any real sense of urgency about her. She glanced at her watch, she didn't have long.

"I'll tell you later, Dolly." She lied, smiling into the phone. "But for now, could you please put Dick on the phone?" Dolly nodded, even if the artist couldn't see her, and flapped her free hand in the air, trying to dry her nails before she messed them up on her walk down to the music room.

"Sure!" She was put on hold as Dolly left her desk to answer her request. Charlie tapped her foot impatiently, glancing at her watch every couple of seconds. She didn't have long until her plane left, and she feared that if she thought about it too much, she might change her mind. She waited a little longer before growing too anxious. She'd been about to put the phone down when their was a blunt click from the receiver, and her heart stopped beating.

"Hello?" A familiar voice asked. Charlotte let out a shaky breath.

"Richard." She murmured. Instantly, the voice on the other end of the phone brightened.

"Charlie! I was wondering where you'd got to." Charlotte leaned against the glass window of the phone booth and chuckled softly.

"I ran off pretty quickly, hey?" She said quietly. Maybe this had been a mistake. Surely, this had been her heart's last ditch attempt to try and get her to change her mind.

"Sure did." Dick agreed, seating himself comfortably on Dolly's empty desk. "What's up? Where are you? Did you catch up with P.L.T?" Charlie started to chew her lip anxiously. She couldn't do this. It was too hard. But she had to, she couldn't imagine how much worse it would feel if she didn't.

"I'm at the airport." She told him slowly. Back at the studios, Dick felt dread start to clench in his chest at her words. He tried his best to smile, not wanting to jump to any conclusions.

"Why... Why are you at the airport?" He asked, laughing nervously. She must have followed Mrs. Travers there, he decided. There was no other reason why she would go to the airport. When she didn't reply, he slid off the desk, pressing the telephone harder against his ear. "Charlie?" He heard her draw in a deep breath and he would never forget her next words.

"I, um... I'm leaving." She told him hesitantly. Richard froze, and Charlie closed her eyes, pressing her palm against her forehead. His silence was killing her, why did they always end up doing these things over the phone?

"What?" He managed finally. Charlotte lost her voice for a moment, but she was actually quite thankful for it as it gave her time to think up an adequate reply.

"I'm going home to London." She said, and he noted that her voice shook slightly. Dick's heart sank in his chest. He couldn't believe this was happening.

"Charlie, you can't-" His voice cracked and he pressed his lips together before he could continue. Charlotte sensed his shocked silence would endure, so she cleared her throat and tried to sound as clipped and resolute as possible.

"Everything's in order. My pay check will follow me and I'm already packed." She informed him. Back at the studios, Dick shook his head in disbelief. He'd spoken to her not half an hour ago, and in that time she'd decided to leave? It was impossible. It couldn't be.

"I don't understand. You said you were staying." He murmured, hating that his words made him sound like a little boy. Charlie's guilt was eating her up inside, but she'd made her decision.

"I'm going to see my mother, she's very close to..." She paused, not wanting to actually say the words out loud. She sniffed, trying to pull herself together before persevering. "And after, there'll be all sorts of affairs to sort out. It could take me years and then after that, there's really no need for me come back. My work on this film will be over." She smiled sadly, looking down at her shoes as a terrible thought surfaced. "You lot don't really need me anymore anyway." She added quietly. Richard felt sick, like he couldn't catch his breath.

"I need you." He replied firmly, determination making his teeth grit. There was a rustle on the other end of line as Charlotte moved the phone away from her ear. She took in a deep breath to settle her nerves. Somehow, this felt even worse than she'd thought it would.

"Dick, my plane leaves in fifteen minutes." She told him quietly. He felt close to tears, he couldn't wrap his head around what was happening.

"I don't..." He tried. "You..." They'd been so close. The last few days had seen their relationship develop drastically. Yesterday, they'd been about to kiss, go on a date, start a new chapter. But now, now it was all crashing down around him. It had only been half an hour since he'd seen her.

"I will miss you terribly." Charlotte told him softly, resting her head against the glass wall of the telephone box. She let out a tiny chuckle. "In fact, just talking to you makes me not want to go." Dick's grip on the telephone was so tight he thought he might snap it in two.

"Then don't. Please stay, please." He begged.

"I can't-"

"I'm coming to talk to you, face to face." He interrupted her, determination driving his actions. He would go to her, talk to her. They could work this out, he couldn't let her leave. "Where's your phone booth?" Charlotte glanced down at her watch and realised how little time she had left.

"Dick, I've got to go." She told him, her tone heavy with regret. Dick only just refrained from slamming his fist down on the desk in frustration.

"No, Charlotte, don't." He tried, but the artist was already sounding faint.

"Goodbye, Richard." She told him. He could see her watery smile, hear the sadness in her voice. "It was so terribly nice working with you."

"No, wait!" He cried, but the line clicked then went dead. With an outraged yell, he slammed the phone down on its stand. "Damn it!" He roared, just as his brother and Don hurried into the reception. Dolly had told them who was on the phone and they'd had wanted to come too, but when they'd heard Dick talking, they'd stayed back, not wanting to intrude. Now, shocked by the furious cries of the usually so placid musician, they'd hurried in to see what the matter was.

"What's wrong?" Bob asked quickly, resting his hand on his brother's shoulder, trying to get him to calm down. Dick ran a hand through his hair, his gaze darting about the room, never once meeting Bob's eyes.

"Charlie's getting on a plane, she's going back to England."

"What? Why?" Don gasped, sending Bob a distressed look. Bob looked just as shocked and squeezed his brother's shoulder as he stammered his way through a reply.

"Her mother's dying, but she says she's not coming back." His voice broke and when he looked up, his eyes were red and watery. He took a few short, shallow breaths before brushing off his brother's hand. "I've got to talk to her." He announced, already making his way towards the door. "Tell Walt I'm sorry." Bob and Don both stared at the man, not quite believing what they were seeing.

"Dick!" Bob cried, trying to knock some sense into his brother before he disappeared from sight. Dick shook his head, raising his hands to show his remorse.

"I'm sorry, I've got to go, I've got to stop her." Then before they could say another word, he'd turned and run out of the door.


	16. Chapter 16

Her city seemed much darker than she remembered. Though it had gone ten o'clock in the evening when the plane wheels touched down at Heathrow, she'd expected a much brighter glow over her home. Perhaps she'd become too accustomed to the dazzling lights of Los Angeles, or perhaps it was the gloom nestling inside of her that dampened the brightness of the city. To say she felt awful was an understatement. Though she was sure she'd made the right decision, Charlotte felt torn between two worlds. She supposed it was within her rights to say it wasn't fair that she'd been subjected to such a cruel twist of fate, but Charlie wasn't that kind of person, and anyway, it was too late now, she'd already made her decision.

Though they'd been on the same plane for an exhausting ten hours, she hadn't said one word to Mrs. Travers. Once she'd hung up the phone outside of the airport, she'd immediately gone back inside to talk to the author. She wasn't sure why she'd wanted to speak with her, perhaps to thank her or tell her what she'd decided. She didn't think Mrs. Travers would care about those things, but it would have been nice to see her.

She passed relatively quickly through Heathrow, all the while looking out for the author. It wasn't until she finally stepped outside into the warm May air that she finally saw her. Charlotte watched, all her worldly belongings clutched in her hands, as Mrs. Travers hailed a taxi by the side of the road without a backwards glance. She thought about calling out to her, but for some reason, for voice wouldn't work. Then, just as she was getting into the black taxicab, Mrs. Travers turned her head and they locked eyes across the bustling square. Charlotte couldn't think of a thing to say to her, but Mrs. Travers smiled and nodded once before settling into her seat and pulling the door closed with a heavy clunk. That would be the last she'd see of the troublesome woman for a long time.

She didn't have the money for a taxi, what little she had was in dollars, so Charlotte dragged her heavy suitcase and bags to the nearest bus stop. She'd missed the towering vehicles, missed watching them as they redded through the city. Though the interiors weren't exactly spotless, the affable smell that greeted her helped to ease her anxieties just a little. When she arrived at Earl's Court station, she hurried inside as quickly as possible, as it had just begun to rain. She couldn't believe she'd actually missed getting caught in such drizzles, now all she wanted was the sunshine on her face. It took only a minute or so to find the right train. She knew the tube map like the back of her hand. Her family couldn't afford a car, so they'd always used public transport. From Earl's Court, the familiar green District line brought her to Southfields station.

Still hauling her bags with her, she followed her routine path through the streets, the one she'd always taken. Her house was right at the end of the longest road on the grid and the dread she felt as she gradually drew closer to her home only made it feel longer. Even though she'd only been gone a month, she was surprised at how much the little town had changed since she'd been gone. Though her house had fortunately been missed by the German bombs, there were many on her street that had not been so lucky. After the war, they'd started the construction of new houses, obscure blocks of flats, the likes of which she'd never seen before. When she'd left, they'd only just started their construction, but now they were really taking shape. She would welcome the new families and their box-like homes with open arms, but it was strange to have them spring up so suddenly.

Finally, she reached her house. How odd, she thought to herself, that she saw it as a house and not a home. She brushed the thought aside as she struggled to get her keys out of her handbag. Only then, when she'd tried to slot the key into the lock, did she realise how dark it had gotten. Though they had reached the middle of spring, she was still surprised by how light it was outside during the day, but the darkness only fell more abruptly in the evenings. It had crept up on her, and now she was struggling to enter her house where her mother was dying. Gritting her teeth, she finally managed to push the old blue, door open and unceremoniously sling her stuff inside. Charlie took a few deep breaths as she stood in the hallway to her house, then closed the door gently behind her. It was pitch black, darker than outside, and Charlotte fumbled blindly against the wall until she found the light switch. She blinked once or twice as the artificial light suddenly burst through the house, illuminating the hallway so that she could see into the kitchen at the other end. There was no one in there, so she stuck her head around the living room doorway, thinking that her mother might be sat in her armchair reading a book. She flipped on the light, but found nobody there. She left her things at the bottom of the stairs and quietly scaled the steps, skipping the ones she knew would creak.

"Mum?" She whispered, as she arrived on the landing. She didn't hear any footsteps, so she edged across the carpeted landing until she reached her parents' bedroom. "Mum?" She poked her head around the door, expecting to find her tucked up in bed. But she was nowhere to be found. Charlotte felt her stomach disappear inside of her but tried not to panic. She turned on the switch, praying that she hadn't been able to make out her mother's shape in the gloom. But no, she wasn't there. "Oh, God." She breathed. She began to paw at the blankets, hoping in vain to uncover the woman. With a frustrated cry, she dropped the sheets then tore back down the stairs. "Mum?" She ran into the kitchen, thinking that she might've missed her. Then she went back into the living room, but her mother wasn't there either. Fear shivered down her spine and she suddenly felt sick. Where could she be? It wasn't safe for her to be out by herself at this time of night, especially in her condition. She stumbled towards the staircase, grasping at the bannister for support as she hurried back upstairs. "Mum!" She cried again, praying that she'd missed her, that she'd been stupid and neglected to check somewhere. Then, just as she reached the top of the stairs, she heard a familiar voice calling for her.

"Charlotte?" She froze and turned on the spot. It wasn't her mother, but it was female and friendly. She peered over the bannister to find an older woman standing in the hall. "Charlotte?" In her panic, she hadn't heard the front door open, but she gave a relieved sigh when she realised who it was. She walked down a step or two, and the woman looked around, squinting at her behind thick spectacles. Then she gave her a warm smile and held her arms out to her. "There you are, darling." She said softly. Charlotte gave a relieved sob and rushed down the stairs, almost knocking the old woman over as she accepted her embrace.

"Clara, it's so good to see you." She murmured, squeezing her friend tight. Clara Wilson lived alone across the road and had known Charlotte's family since before she'd been born. She was kind and sweet and always smelt like lavender. At that moment, her hair was held back by a number of rollers and she was dressed in her nightgown. Charlie realised that she must have woken the woman from her sleep with all her shouting, but all she could concentrate on was finding her mother. She held the woman at arm's length, clutching her a little more tightly than she should have. "Please, do you know where my mother is?" She asked her breathlessly. "She's not here and she's not well enough to be out by herself." Despite her panicked tone and wild appearance, Clara gently patted Charlie's hand and smiled at her.

"Don't worry, dear." She whispered, immediately settling Charlie's nerves. "The doctor has told me everything. I didn't want her staying here all on her own, so I moved her over to my house." Charlotte loosened her grip on the woman and felt her heartbeat return to its normal pace.

"Oh, thank you." She breathed, closing her eyes in relief. Clara shook her head, she didn't want to be thanked.

"It's nothing, darling." She assured her, giving her hand another caring pat. Then she took her by the arm and gently pulled her towards the door. "Come along, I'll take you to her."

Without a second thought, she let the older woman guide her across the road to her similar looking house. Once inside, it was straight through to the spare bedroom at the far end of the hallway. Clara explained on the way that she'd wanted to keep her mum on the ground floor so that she didn't overexert herself by climbing up and down the stairs all day. She was glad that she'd decided to do this, as recently her mother's health had drastically declined and she was now bedridden. Charlotte leaned against the door frame of the spare room, her arms crossed as she tried to hug herself better. Her mother was fast asleep, safely buried underneath a mountain of blankets. She looked very pale and drawn, and she hoped that it was the dark room that was making her mother look so irreversibly sick.

"How's she been?" She murmured to Clara, though her eyes never left her mother's sleeping form. Clara sighed as she shuffled around the bedroom, picking up plates and glasses from the dinner she'd prepared for her old friend.

"Oh, well enough, despite things." She whispered. She studied what remained of the meal and felt her heart sink when she realised that Margaret Johnson hadn't touched her food. She quickly dropped a tea towel over the plate, not wanting to exacerbate Charlotte's pain. Charlie didn't see the old woman's sleight of hand but did look up at her when she came closer.

"And you? How've you been?" She asked, smiling sweetly at Clara. She owed her so much, she didn't know where to begin. But she knew Clara wasn't the kind of person who liked to be thanked, so she didn't try. She'd never met a more humble woman.

"Oh, I get along fine, darling." She said as she tottered around to the other side of the bed to turn off the lamp. "It's been nice having company in this big, old house." Charlotte looked down at her feet, her smile fading slightly. She was glad that the two women had been each other's company, but her words had made her feel a little guilty. She felt bad that she hadn't been there for her mother when she'd been so ill, even if she'd gone to America with her blessing.

"When did they tell her?" She asked softly. Clara hummed thoughtfully as she continued to tidy up the little room.

"About three weeks ago, I think." Charlotte's head shot up and she gawked at the older woman.

"What?" She cried, and her sudden shout almost made Clara drop the plate in her hands. She quickly shushed the artist, glancing fearfully between her and Margaret, who had thankfully not been woken by her daughter's shout. She gave a long sigh of relief, then bustled Charlie out of the doorway.

"Come through to the kitchen, I'll make you a nice cuppa." She placed her hands on her back and gently ushered her back down the hallway where they could talk. Charlotte let herself be manoeuvred through the house and placed into a seat at the kitchen table like a doll. She couldn't believe that her mother would keep such a thing from her. She'd learned that her declining health was in fact terminal whilst Charlie had been away, but she hadn't told her. Why hadn't she told her? They were very close, Charlie and her mother, they were all each other had. They never kept anything from each other, which was why Charlotte couldn't understand why she hadn't said a word. She was only brought back to her senses when a hot cup of tea was pushed into her hands. Her fingers clasped the teacup of their own accord, and she found some comfort in the warmth that seeped into her skin. Clara grunted as she plopped herself down in the seat across from her.

"Three weeks ago?" Charlie repeated, now that they could speak at a normal volume without fear of waking her mother. Clara sighed and took a sip of her tea, even though it must've been scalding hot.

"She didn't want to worry you. That's why she didn't tell you." She explained, feeling guilty for revealing what her friend had told her in confidence. "In fact, I don't think she would have ever told you. Stubborn woman, your mother." Charlie allowed herself a smile then. Oh, yes, that was her mum. But it was all well and good being pig-headed about trivial matters, but to not have told her only daughter that she was dying? It was all too much. "When the doctor found out that she hadn't told you, he thought it best to contact you as soon as possible." Clara went on, reaching across the table and patting her hand again. She seemed to like doing it, and Charlotte found it comforting. They were silent for a moment as they drank their tea, all the while Charlotte was still trying to process all of the day's events. It felt like she'd been in a dream, like she couldn't quite remember everything. It had all been a blur, and she wasn't entirely sure if she was fully awake. She was bone dead tired, but Clara's next words managed to capture her attention. "You got here very quickly." Said the old woman, thinking it was best to carry on with their conversation and gloss over the part where she'd given away a very big secret. "Were they alright about it? The company?"

"Hm? Oh, yes, yes, fine." Charlie nodded faintly and gave the woman a weak smile. She didn't think the company was alright with at all, in fact, she was too scared to even think about it. She would call Walt tomorrow to apologise and explain, but she was terrified that he would be angry with her.

"You've finished all your work then?" Again, Charlotte nodded. At least this time she was telling the truth.

"Yes, they don't need me anymore." She had finished her work and it was all safely stored in her office. If anyone needed anything, they could just step in and grab it. But then there was the job she'd been offered in animation, the offer she had accepted from Walt and McLaren. Charlie wanted to work in the animation department with all her heart, but it was impossible now. She had made the decision to return home to England, and that was where she'd stay.

"Oh, good." Clara said happily. She'd been worried that the news of Charlie's mother would interrupt her work and neither she nor Margaret had wanted that. There was another silence, but it was considerably less tense than the last. The tea was helping Charlie to relax, but her mind was still whirring, trying to make sense of all that had happened. "Did you have a nice time?" Clara asked eventually. Charlotte looked up at her and finally gave her a real smile.

"It was wonderful." She whispered, feeling the first of many pangs of guilt that would undoubtedly plague her for the entirety of her stay. She tried to ignore the sickness that sat in her throat, but it was getting harder and harder. "But I'm glad I'm home." She went on, trying to take her mind off it. "If I hadn't seen mum before..." She trailed off as more terrible thoughts began to creep into her mind. She felt awful about leaving, but if she'd stayed, she would never have seen her mother again. She'd never have been able to say goodbye. Charlie looked down at the table, trying to distract herself by tracing the floral patterns of the tablecloth with one fingertip. But her throat was tight and her face was growing hot. Clara made a sympathetic noise when she saw tears start to slide down Charlie's face. She got up from her chair and wrapped her arms around the girl's shoulders. Immediately, Charlotte clung to her, her emotions getting the better of her again.

"Oh, dear." Clara murmured as she stroked her hair comfortingly. It pained her to see such a bright and happy girl suddenly consumed with grief, and it was all she could do to stop herself from crying too.

Charlie has gone back home after that. The little house seemed so empty and dark without her family with her. Midnight had come and gone, but she didn't feel tired. She sat in her old bedroom, looking out at the view. It wasn't nearly as spectacular as her one in California, but it had a beauty all of its own. The streets were bare and gloomy, but she could see the tall structures in the centre of the city, and they were shining as brightly as the stars above. She sighed dolefully and rested her hand on her chin, gazing out and wishing she didn't feel quite so alone. Though her body had travelled very far and fast, it seemed her heart would take a little longer to arrive. Charlie missed her friends. She wondered what they'd be doing right at that second, and tried to guess how they'd reacted to her untimely departure. She hoped they weren't angry with her, she couldn't bear to think that they were in any way disappointed with her actions. And though she desperately tried to restrain them, her thoughts inevitably turned to Richard. What must he think of her? She wouldn't be surprised if he never wanted to speak to her again. Charlotte groaned and turned away from the window. What use was it worrying about something she couldn't change? She was there now, what's done was done. But still, there was a niggling feeling in the back of mind, telling her that she'd made a mistake, and it kept her up throughout the night.

* * *

The next morning, she awoke refreshed yet still miserable. It was wonderful to be back in her own room, she'd been getting sick of her hotel, and the rest of the house looked just the same as she'd left it. But it was emptier now without her mother, and she feared that soon she would feel out of place there. It was a dreadful feeling, to be a stranger in ones own home. It didn't feel like she belonged there anymore.

She tried to take her mind off things by keeping herself busy. She made herself a small breakfast of tea and toast and ate it in the garden, letting the sun warm her face for a little while. After this, she thought it would be good to clean the house. It had been neglected now that its owner was across the road, and Charlotte knew that doing a bit of spring cleaning would turn her mind away from her troublesome thoughts. She scrubbed the house from top to bottom, fluffing pillows and dusting shelves. She wouldn't usually put this much effort into tidying, she'd always found it dreadfully tedious, but she wanted to make her mum proud. So she put her heart and soul into cleaning, until her hands were red and her body ached.

It had just passed two when she decided that she'd put off the inevitable for long enough. She tidied herself up, not wanting to incite any comments about her appearance, then walked out of the door. A few seconds later, she burst back into the house and pelted up the stairs, a stark contrast to the grace she'd exuded just a minute ago. She dug around in her suitcase which she had yet to unpack, flinging her clothes over her shoulders as she searched for one item in particular. With the small, rectangular gift safely tucked under her arm, she straightened herself out again and left the house once more. As with most of the houses on her street, the door to Clara's was unlocked. Their little town was perfectly safe, and people hardly ever locked their doors during the day. She stood in the hallway, waiting for the little woman to appear.

"Clara?" She called, trying to keep her voice down just in case her mother was still asleep. Clara poked her head out from the kitchen in the back of the house and gestured for her to come through. Keeping as silent as she could, Charlotte met the old lady and found that she wasn't alone. Sitting at the kitchen table was a balding man in a blue suit. He had a kind face and a strange air to him that instantly settled Charlie's nerves.

"Charlotte, dear. This is Doctor Lyons." Clara introduced the man. He looked about fifty or so, and his friendly smile caused his face to concertina into a thousand wrinkles.

"I've heard a great deal about you, Miss. Johnson-Liddle." He greeted her. He had a deep, soothing voice, and Charlotte allowed herself a smile in return, even though the knowledge of his profession caused her anxieties to reappear. She'd always been a bit nervous around doctors and hospitals in general, which is why she never visited either when she was feeling ill. She'd always found the blinding white halls and bleach stench too much to bear, and doctors themselves were usually very stiff and detached. Although, Doctor Lyons seemed different, kinder.

"It's a pleasure to meet you." She replied steadily, remembering her manners despite her uneasiness. "Thank you for taking such good care of my mother." The doctor waved off her gratitude, which was odd as most physicians weren't nearly so humble.

"I just supplied the medicine. Mrs. Wilson here oversaw the administration." He told her, and Charlotte saw her friend blush over the doctor's shoulder. "Now, Miss, I must inform you of how dire the situation is." He went on, and his tone was very different now. Charlotte took the seat he offered and thanked Clara for the cup of tea she handed to her. "Your mother is terribly ill, Miss. Johnson-Liddle. I was shocked to discover she hadn't informed you of the extent of her sickness." Charlotte swallowed thickly but said nothing, deciding it would be best just to let the man talk. Doctor Lyons sighed, he always dreaded this part. "She has very little time left, Miss." He said gravely. His keen eyes picked up the minuscule movement of Charlie's hands as they tightened around her teacup, but still she said nothing. "I know it's difficult, but I think it would be best if you began to organise the necessary arrangements now." He continued. "Otherwise, it might exacerbate things later when-"

"How much time?" Charlotte interjected. She hadn't wanted to interrupt, but she couldn't listen to such things any longer. She didn't want to think about  _later_. Doctor Lyons' fingers interlocked and his mouth turned downwards.

"Days." He admitted, and even he, with all his years of experience, had to look away from the distraught expression on the young woman's face. Days. She had  _days_  left with her mother. Then she would be alone. She tried to thank the doctor again for his help, but her words failed her. He seemed to understand what she'd meant and gave her the tiniest of smiles. Charlotte's gaze dropped to the table top whilst Doctor Lyons and Clara spoke to each other, and their voices sank to just a dull hum in the background. It felt strange. In the films, when a person hears bad news, the music swells and time feels like it has stopped altogether. But it didn't feel like that at all. All around her, birds were still signing, cars were still puttering by, and people were still going about the daily business. The world was still turning, it didn't care that her mother was dying. She hadn't realised she'd zoned out until a comforting hand touched her shoulder. Clara was peering at her behind her thick spectacles, concern marring her face.

"You can go in now." She said quietly. Charlotte looked around and saw that the doctor had gone. She really had drifted away inside her head.

"Have you told her I've arrived home?" She asked softly as she tentatively got to her feet. She didn't quite trust her legs to work properly after the news she had just received. Clara offered a sweet smile and gently guided her towards the door to the spare room.

"I thought it'd be a nice surprise." She answered, then knocked three times of the painted wooden door. Charlotte thanked her quietly before turning the cold, metal handle. The room was considerably brighter than when she'd last entered it, and she could see her mother as clear as day. She was still lying back on the pillows with her eyes shut, but she didn't think she was asleep. Glancing back over her shoulder, she found that Clara had left them in peace. She closed the door behind her and crept forward, not wanting to interrupt the stillness of the room.

"Mum?" She said softly. Despite her gentle tone, her mother heard her call and opened her eyes. Her face immediately broke out into a wide smile.

"Charlotte!" She cried, and she tried to sit up in bed, but her strength failed her. Charlie flew to her side, trying to get her back in a comfortable position under the covers. Though it was nice that her mother was pleased to see her, her exuberance would be her undoing. Once she was settled, Charlie dragged a chair over to her bedside and rested what she'd brought her on the floor so that it remained a surprise. "What are you doing here?" Margaret asked, and though she felt very weak, the sight of her daughter had knocked some energy into her. Charlotte smiled and busied herself with the edge of the blanket, making sure it was properly tucked in so that her mother stayed warm.

"I came to see you, silly." She replied, shaking her head slightly. Her mother didn't appreciate her teasing, but she was too happy to see her to be bothered with her usual scolding.

"But you should be at work!" She blurted out. Charlotte met her gaze finally and found her own eyes staring back. Though she'd got her light, curly hair from her father, her hazel eyes were the exact copy of her mother's, though there were far fewer wrinkles around hers. They hadn't been there before, surely? Her mother had looked much younger the last time she'd seen her. In fact, now that she could see her properly, she noted how much she'd changed in her absence. Her dark, almost black hair had much more grey to it, and she seemed so frail and brittle. Her mother had once been a force to be reckoned with, but now she looked like a fragile, old woman. The thought made her feel sick.

"The job's finished, mother." She said evenly, not wanting to tell her the whole truth in her weak state. "They don't need me anymore. But you do." Although her mother didn't look the part anymore, the sheer force of her character remained intact.

"You told me that they'd offered you another." She shot back instantly, looking quite cross with her daughter. Margaret wanted Charlotte to grab every opportunity that came her way, so that she didn't waste away her life looking after her. Charlie was momentarily struck by her mother's words. Ah. She'd forgotten that she'd told her about the new job.

"They let me come and see you." She said quickly, coming up with a lie off the top of her head. "I'll be back to it in no time." That seemed to settle her, and Charlotte breathed a silent sigh of relief when her mother relaxed back against the pillows.

"Oh, that's nice of them." She commented, smiling happily now that she thought her daughter's work hadn't been interrupted. She reached out and stroked her cheek, concern now clouding her expression. "You've had a long journey, you should rest." Charlie smiled and placed her hand on top of her mother's.

"I'm fine, mum. I got here yesterday, but you were asleep and I didn't want to disturb you." She explained. She carefully removed her mother's hand from her cheek and held it in both of her own. She was silent for a moment as she worked up the courage to say what she wanted to say. "Doctor Lyons called me-" She began, but Margaret rolled her eyes.

"Oh, he shouldn't have done that, I told him explicitly not to-" She had started to sit up again, but she suddenly clutched her chest and gasped in pain. Charlie's heart missed a beat and she reached out to her mum with uncertain hands, not knowing how to help.

"Mum?" She gasped, her fearful eyes darting from her mother's face which was screwed up in pain, to the door behind her. She'd been about to run and get Clara but she felt a hand on top of her own, keeping her in place.

"It's fine, darling. It's fine." Her mum said quickly, though she sounded very out of breath. Charlie slowly settled back down in her seat, her wide eyes trained on the woman in bed. Margaret took a few long, deep breaths, trying to calm her racing heart. Then she patted her daughter's hand, urging her to continue. She'd missed her desperately, even though she'd wanted her to stay in America. All she'd ever wanted was for Charlie to be happy, and though she hated to be apart from her, California was where she should be. "Tell me about your trip." She suggested, trying to keep her daughter's mind off her. She didn't want her to know how cold she felt, or that she was steadily starting to lose the feeling in her legs. Charlotte looked uncertain, but did as her mother asked.

"Well, the job was perfect," She began, trying to stop her voice from sounding so shaky. "And city was beautiful. The people I worked with were absolutely wonderful." Her mother hummed and closed her eyes, resting her head back against the pillows. "I worked closely with three gentlemen."

"Oh, yes?" Charlotte squeezed her mother's hand out of habit. She was starting to relax, even though talking about her friends hurt her terribly.

"There was Don DaGradi, he wrote the script. He was lovely and very kind." She pictured the man in her head. He was the one who had introduced her to that wonderful, new world. He'd been so enthusiastic and zealous, she almost hadn't believed that he was being serious. "And then there were the two brothers, Bob and Dick Sherman. They did the music."

"And what were they like?" Her mother asked her, though she sounded quite faint now. Charlotte found it hard to swallow, her eyes dropping to the patterns and lines of the blankets.

"Bob was very sweet. A little reserved in the beginning, but altogether lovely." She described the eldest Sherman with ease. He'd been kind to her, but it was only recently that he'd become a true friend. He'd seemed so different to his brother at first, but over time, he showed his softer side as well. "And Dick, he..." She trailed off at the mention of her best friend. Saying his name out loud hurt. She didn't want to think about him, but her mother opened her eyes and frowned at her.

"Yes?" She prompted, unsure of why she'd stopped. Charlie looked up, her mouth open slightly. How could she describe Richard Sherman? Or better yet, how could she talk about him without bursting into tears?

"He was absolutely wonderful." She managed, though her throat felt unbearably tight. "I've never met a more..." She shook her head, her words suddenly failing her. "I don't know, he was just..."

"Oh, dear." Her mother murmured, giving her a perceptive smile. "I know that look." Charlotte groaned and looked away from her mother's canny eyes.

"Oh, mother, not now." She begged. Not only was the memory of Richard still raw in her mind, but this time was meant to be about her and her mother, she didn't want to get upset in front of her.

"He made quite an impression on you, didn't he?" Her mother teased softly. Then her eyes widened. "Oh, was he the one you went on a date with?" She realised. Charlotte smiled sadly, her face starting to grow hot. She couldn't cry in front of her, that would mean expounding everything. If she couldn't even explain her feelings to herself, how on Earth could she do so in front of her mother?

"Almost." She replied. To her horror, her voice cracked and tears started to well in her eyes. Her mother's mouth fell open, shocked by her daughter's sudden anguish. She tried to sit up again, but found she could hardly move. Gritting her teeth to hide her worry, she reached out and tenderly stroked Charlotte's cheek.

"What's wrong, darling?" She cooed, brushing away a stray tear. Charlie could've laughed at her mother's question is she hadn't felt so awful.  _Everything_  was wrong. Her mother was dying, her friends were a world away, and she was completely and utterly heartbroken. She'd never felt so lost in all her life, and the only ones who could help her were either in another country or would be taken from her in just a few days. For the sake of her mother, she forced a smile and wiped away her tears with the back of her hand.

"I miss them terribly." She said, her voice sounding tight and hoarse. Her mother looked at her pityingly and stroked her hair, knowing there was no way she could ever make Charlotte feel better, but she would try with all her might.

"They sound marvellous," She said softly, giving her daughter a comforting smile. "I would love to meet them." Charlotte sniffed loudly, and for once her mother didn't scold her for her lack of manners. She supposed that's when she should have guessed that something was amiss.

"Well, I sent you a photograph." Charlie replied, trying to change the subject. She'd posted a letter to her mother containing the photograph a few weeks ago, it would definitely have reached London by then. That's why her mother's confused expression was so surprising.

"Which photograph?" Margaret asked, her brow furrowing as she tried to remember receiving such a gift. Charlie sniffed again and was glad that she'd managed to put a stop to her tears.

"A photograph of us all at work? Didn't it arrive?" Her mother closed her eyes, and she thought she must have been trying to concentrate, but really Margaret was starting to feel faint. She could no longer move her body.

"Perhaps not." She murmured eventually, and if Charlotte had been paying proper attention, she would've noticed how distant her mother sounded, but her mind was captured by the missing photograph. There were an all manner of reasons why the letter might not have been delivered, but she still felt saddened that her mother hadn't seen the picture.

"That's a shame, I'd have liked to see it again." She mumbled, almost to herself. They were silent for a moment as Charlotte thought about the missing photograph. Its twin hanged proudly behind the piano in the rehearsal room, she'd looked at it every day with fondness. She remembered the way they had laughed whilst it was being taken, and how Dick had looked up at her just before the last second on the timer. He'd looked surprised that she had stood so close to him, that her hand was resting on his shoulder. She'd grinned back at him, finding his expression completely adorable, but it had also been to hide her own infatuated look that she would've given him in its place. She shook her head slightly, not wanting to think about him or her friends in case she started to cry again. She beamed at her mother instead and leaned forward to pick her present off the floor. "I brought you something." Her mother frowned and let out an almost weary sigh.

"You didn't have to bring me anything." She told her daughter. She'd never liked her daughter 'wasting' her money on her, and even in her state, she would still work up the strength to reprimand her. Charlotte gave the tiniest of laughs at her mother's words, knowing full well how much she hated being the centre of attention.

"Here." She said quietly and held out what she'd brought. Margaret gave a weary sigh but opened her eyes again out of curiosity. When she saw what her daughter was offering her, her mouth fell open in surprise.

"Oh..." She breathed. Charlotte smiled as her mum reached out with tentative fingers and carefully took the book from her. She didn't need to look inside the cover to know what Charlotte had done for her. "You... You got her..."

"Yes." Charlie told her proudly. Margaret turned her copy of 'Mary Poppins' over in her hands, sliding her palm across the old material of the cover before finally prising it open. Charlotte watched her as she found the message Mrs. Travers had scrawled there, her eyes travelling with painstaking slowness over the author's words. Then she looked up, and her greying face had brightened considerably.

"What is she like?" She asked, her smile starting to return to her. She slowly settled back against the pillows, waiting for her daughter's description of the author. Charlotte shook her head, not quite knowing how to describe the larger than life woman. She wouldn't tell her about her belligerent attitude when she'd first arrived, or how she'd fought them all on every creative decision. She also wouldn't tell her that it was she who'd convinced her to come home, perhaps another time. Instead, she wanted to highlight all the nice things that Mrs. Travers had done, so that she didn't disparage her mother's hero.

"She's lovely, mum." She assured her, reaching out and taking her mother's hand in hers and squeezing it tight. "She asked all about you, and-" Charlotte halted when her mother's hand fell limp, her skin icy cold. She could hardly breathe as she looked up at her face and saw that her eyes were closed and her mouth was firmly shut.  _No. No, please, no._  She slowly reached out, brushing her thumb across her mother's cheek. "Mum?" She tried to call out to her, hoping with all her might that she'd just nodded off. But her voice came out as a feeble squeak, so quiet even she didn't even hear it. "Mum, please." She squeezed her mother's hand again and again. Her heart was hammering in her chest and she could feel the sickness of foreboding trickling down her throat. But still, her mother didn't make a sound. "Mum!" She finally found her voice as desperation claimed her. She had to stop herself from shaking the woman in bed. The door suddenly burst open behind her and she turned to see Clara standing wide-eyed in the doorway. "Get the doctor!" She ordered, and the old woman went scurrying away again. She rose to her feet and gripped her mother's shoulder. "Mum!" She begged her to open her eyes, to smile at her one last time. The doctor, he'd said they had days left. When she'd heard the news, days had felt like nothing, a blink of an eye. But now all she wanted was one more minute, so she could say all the things she'd wanted to say, to tell her she was thankful and that she loved her. But no, she'd never get the chance. "Mum! Mum, please!" The doctor arrived quicker than she'd expected and he rushed to the bedside, brandishing his stethoscope, ready to save the day. Though Charlotte felt completely useless, not knowing a single way she could offer to help the man, she clutched her mother's hand tightly, never wanting to let go.

* * *

A very bedraggled and miserable looking Richard was standing in the reception at the Walt Disney Studios whilst his brother spoke to Dolly. Though the secretary spoke to both of them animatedly, it was only Bob who replied. Dick's mind was unfocused, and it had been that way since yesterday. He honestly didn't know if he was upset or angry with Charlie. Of course, he knew that she'd had to leave. He knew that if the roles were reversed, he probably would have made the same decision. But it still hurt that she had left so suddenly. Especially as it was very likely that he would never see her again. The thought sat like a cold stone in the pit of his stomach. What if his worst fears were true and yesterday was the last time they'd spoken to each other face to face? What would he do? It felt like his whole life had been leading up to the moment they'd met, and now it was... Empty. His brother and Don had been completely sympathetic and had even offered to cover for him if he hadn't felt ready to come into work that day. But he'd thought it would be good to keep his mind off things and carry on as normal. Though, now that he was there listening to Dolly gossip about Mrs. Travers' swift departure, he very much regretted his decision.

His gaze fell to the desk they stood in front of, taking note of the items of stationary to keep his mind busy. He blocked out the conversation going on next to him, hoping that would ease the pain he felt. Dolly's desk was strangely neat for such a rambunctious woman, but it was clear she took pride in her work, so maybe it wasn't that strange. Her typewriter was at the centre, a line of its accessories stood beside it like soldiers. To the left of the machine was her telephone, meticulously positioned in the corner, next to which was a brimming Filofax. To the right of the typewriter sat her pens and pencils and other such stationary, then a neat little basket where any mail that needed handing to Walt sat. He'd been about to excuse himself and perhaps find a quiet place to sit outside in the sunshine, but a letter on the top of the pile caught his attention. It was the handwriting that had captured his gaze, he recognised it instantly as Charlie's. Neither Bob nor Dolly noticed as he picked up the thick envelope and studied it closely. He didn't recognise the address, but the loops and curls it was written in was definitely by Charlie's hand. He looked up at his friends and raised the envelope.

"What's this?" He asked abruptly. The two stopped their conversation and looked at him strangely. Dick had never been a rude man, so it was odd that he would interrupt their chat in such a way. Dolly got over her surprise quickly and narrowed her eyes at the envelope in his hand.

"Oh, it was a letter Charlie sent home a little while ago." She realised. "You were there, I think. She used one of our envelopes so they sent it back to us when it couldn't be mailed." Dick looked back down at the letter and finally remembered what Dolly was talking about. He had been there, he was sure of it, then he recalled why. He'd watched her studiously as she licked the stamp and thumbed it to the envelope. He'd paid very close attention. But then he realised what the letter contained and what it meant. She didn't have the photograph. She had nothing to remember them by. Dolly and Bob both watched their friend carefully. Though he'd been very calm about the whole thing after he'd returned from the airport alone, they knew that the smallest thing might set him off. "Dick?" Dolly asked softly. "Dick, are you okay?" The musician didn't look up, his eyes were trained on the envelope in his hands. Then without warning, he turned on his heel and marched out of the door. Bob began to call out to him, but thought better of it. It was best to leave him alone, that way he could clear his thoughts properly. But it didn't stop him from being worried about his little brother. Charlie meant everything to Dick, and he was certain that his feelings were reciprocated. He could only hope that they both found a way to meet again, or otherwise, do what they could with the cards they'd been dealt.


	17. Chapter 17

Charlotte stared at the words etched onto the stone before her _. Margaret Johnson. 3rd May 1961._  They stood just below the slightly more faded epitaph of her husband. She supposed it was nice that they were together again, but selfish as it was, she wished that they were both with her instead.

Clara had wasted no time preparing the burial. Charlotte had been surprised and impressed despite herself, at how quickly she'd sorted everything. She was glad that she had someone looking after her. She didn't think she'd have been able to call whoever needed to be called, she'd only found her voice again that morning. The funeral had been quiet and simple, no fuss, just how her mother would've wanted it. It had taken place just before the church bell in the corner of the graveyard had struck three, but that had been hours ago. She'd been standing before the grave of her parents in silence, just staring at the words now set in stone.

It was dark, but there were still others in the graveyard. Other families paying their respects, some were even speaking to the graves, as if their owners could hear them still. She hadn't said a word since she'd thanked Clara that afternoon. Though the older woman hadn't wanted to leave Charlotte alone, she knew that she needed time to be by herself and had left her to it. Charlotte didn't think it was possible that anyone would ever want to be alone, especially in her situation, but she was grateful for Clara's thoughtfulness all the same.

She'd only ever been to one funeral before, the funeral of her father over twenty years ago. She hadn't said a word then either, but at least she'd had a hand to hold. Now she was alone. She finally made a move, having until then stayed as still as the marble statues that surrounded her. She reached out her fingertips and brushed the dark headstone. It was colder than she'd expected, but it sparked some life back into her. She traced every glyph, from the first letter in the name of her father to the last number of her mother's date, then turned her back on it.

She knew her mother wouldn't want her to be sad, so she tried valiantly to keep her chin up. It wasn't a long walk back to her house, but the curious and respectful looks her dark clothes earned her made the journey drag on. Once inside, she immediately got changed out of her black dress, then stuffed it in the back of her wardrobe, hoping never to see it again. She bathed twice, trying to scrub off the invisible grime that funerals always seem to leave on people. She went to bed that night with a heavy heart. The house had never been so silent. All she wanted was Richard, he would know what to say. She even thought about calling him, it wouldn't be that late in Los Angeles, but the fear that he would be furious with her was too overwhelming. She stared at the telephone on her bedside table, willing it to ring so that she could talk to someone, anyone. But it stayed silent, and she fell asleep alone.

Charlotte spent the next day trying to keep herself busy. She visited the market down the road to replenish the house's dwindling supplies, and even bought the ingredients for a cake she wanted to make for Clara to say thank you for all that she'd done for her. Not only was it odd being home again after her stay in Los Angeles, it also felt strange being solitary. Though she'd walked those streets countless times before without company, now that she was actually alone, she felt disconnected from the other people she saw passing by. The idea that she had no family left was mind-boggling, she never would've dreamed of such a thing. She'd naïvely assumed that her parents would always be there. Oh, how wrong she'd been.

The few friends she had were all work colleagues, and they probably thought she had disappeared off the face of the Earth. Though, none of them had made any attempt to contact her, so she supposed they weren't actually that close. This was of course excluding a short, irritable note she'd found on the kitchen table. It was from a girl named Celia, who was one of her boss' secretaries. She was young and clever and very funny, though her sharp tongue often got her into trouble. The only reason she was still there, despite her clear apathy and boorish mannerisms, was that the majority of those working at the Publishing House were men, and they found her stunningly attractive. Celia knew this and used it to her advantage, which Charlotte admired deeply. Her note had outlined her aggravation at her extended time away from work, and her crude language had clearly expressed her wish for Charlie's swift return. Apart from her and Clara, she had no one.

For the first time, Charlie's life was in her own hands and she wasn't quite sure what to do with it. Her heart had yet to settle, it still clung to the prospect of returning to America now that she had no actual ties to London. Unfortunately, her head had other ideas, and she knew that she needed to look after her house and its possessions. She also still had a job in London, though she had somewhat neglected her employers other the past month. She'd sent word of her arrival and her mother's death, asking for a few days of recuperation before she returned to Billet and Smithe Publishing House. She hoped they would understand her situation, though they had never been a particularly accommodating agency, a stark contrast to the much more compassionate attitude she'd found at the Disney Studios.

When she finally returned home, it was late in the evening and the lampposts were all alight. She grumbled and swore under her breath as she struggled yet again to get her key into the lock. Once inside, she found she was too tired to bother with dinner, but she staggered into the kitchen to put away her shopping, struggling under the weight of her purchases. It was only when she reached the end of the hall that she noticed the kitchen light was on. She waved it off a second later, deciding that she must've forgotten about it when she'd left that morning. She dropped her groceries on the kitchen counter with a grunt then turned to go upstairs to bed. But before she could get any further, she saw something that gave her the fright of her life.

"Bloody hell!" She shrieked, jumping almost a foot in the air and giving her visitor quite a shock. Sat at her kitchen table and looking quite out of place, was Walt. His eyes were wide, her surprised shout had almost made him jump out of his skin, but he had quickly managed to get his heart back to its normal pace. Charlotte, however, was pressed up against the kitchen counter, a hand clutched to chest. Her jaw was hanging open and her breathing was laboured, but she managed to gasp out, "Mr. Disney?" The older man smiled at her kindly, even if she'd just scared the life out of him.

"It's a pleasure to see you again, Charlie." He greeted her warmly. Whilst Charlotte gawked at her boss, he busied himself with the tea tray before him. "Although that's not really the kind of hello I'm used to." He added in an undertone. Charlotte could feel her heart thumping in her ears, and when she spoke again, her voice was still squeaky with shock.

"You scared the bloody life out of me." She piped. She tried taking a few deep breaths to calm herself down. Mr. Disney himself didn't look particularly bothered by her outburst, though he did offer her an apology.

"Sorry about that." He finished pouring tea into the second of two cups before him, then held it out to her. "Tea?" Charlotte ignored his offer, her eyes never leaving his face.

"How on Earth did you get in?" She demanded. She was trying to remain calm, but the situation was beyond absurd. Half of her still maintained that this was all a dream. There was no way that Walt Disney could be sitting at her kitchen table offering her a cup of tea. The filmmaker sighed and placed the cup back down on the table.

"Well, for starters," He said, raising his eyebrows at her meaningfully. "The front door was unlocked." Finally, he saw the woman relax. She slid into the chair across from him with a groan, covering her face despairingly.

"Oh, God. I'm all over the place." She muttered, her words stifled by her hands. Walt pitied the girl. Both the Shermans and Don had told him everything: about Charlotte's mother and the difficult decision she'd been faced with. When he'd learnt that his concept artist had suddenly left the country along with Mrs. Travers, he'd been shocked and more than a little bit angry. But now he knew the truth, he couldn't stay mad at her. He probably would've made the same choice.

"You're, uh, friend found me." Walt offered, trying to spark a conversation. He didn't want their meeting to be sombre, not after the hard times they'd both faced. "I began to introduce myself but she tried to beat me with her purse." Charlotte's hands slowly slipped away to reveal a somewhat proud smile. Yes, that sounded like Clara. Walt chuckled and shook his head as he spooned sugar into his tea. "She's a spitfire. Wouldn't mind hiring her, she could work in security." Her friend may have been getting a little long in the tooth, but she could still hold her own if need be. That would explain the tray of tea, it had most likely been a peace offering, an apology. Charlotte laughed for the first time in what felt like years, and her heart felt considerably lighter than it had done just a few minutes ago. Walt was pleased to see her smiling, he hadn't come halfway across the world to not at least cheer her up.

Whilst Charlotte finally accepted the tea he'd offered her, Disney glanced around the kitchen. It was small and old, but homely. The same bric-a-brac lined the shelves and counters as in his own house, from pots and pans, to queer little items like buttons and pencils. Though the table he was at would squeak whenever it was moved in a way it didn't agree with and none of the chairs matched, he was completely charmed by her home.

"You should really take more care of this house," He told Charlie quietly, his eyes still wandering over the room. "It's a beautiful place." Charlotte had been watching him as he looked around, initially feeling quite embarrassed about the mess, but his words made her feel proud of her home.

"Thank you, it was my mother's." She replied, and for the first time since she'd passed, the name didn't catch in her throat. Walt's gaze flicked back to meet hers and his fond smile dissolved.

"So she..." He left the sentence hanging in the air, not knowing how she would react. Though Charlie missed her mother terribly, she knew that she would never want her to be sorrowful. In fact, after the war had ended, fourteen year old Charlotte had been worried about forgetting her dear father. She'd felt guilty about having fun and laughing, but her mother had quoted an old poem by Rossetti: 'Better by far you should forget and smile than that you should remember and be sad'. She still remembered those words, and her mother's voice wrapped around them. It was alright to feel sad, no one would blame her for it, but she couldn't forget to live because of it.

"Yesterday." She replied, and she gave Disney the faintest of smiles to assure him that he hadn't upset her. As she spoke, she turned her cup around in her hands, pressing her palms against the smooth china. "It was lucky that I left when I did, otherwise I wouldn't have seen her before she died." Walt bowed his head out of respect, his expression grim.

"I'm sorry." He said quietly, but Charlotte shook her head.

"It's alright. She was in a lot of pain towards the end, so it's better now." She reasoned. Though little time had passed and there was so much that still left her troubled, she knew that pragmatism and a level head would see her through. There was a pause then, the only sound heard was the soft tick of the clock on the mantelpiece. Charlotte sipped her tea whilst looking the filmmaker up and down, trying to guess the answer to her question before she asked it. "Mr. Disney," She began finally. "I don't mean to be rude, but what are you doing here?" Walt smiled at her, assuring her that he didn't think she had been at all rude. Then he began to dig around in his jacket pocket.

"Well, not only have I travelled halfway across the globe to try and convince the lovely Mrs. Travers to come back," He told her, his voice somewhat quieter as he was distracted by whatever it was he was searching for. This surprised Charlotte. He'd come to bring Pamela back? Was he completely mad? Had he been paying any attention over the last few weeks? Mrs. Travers was beyond furious, and though she had shown her softer side recently, they'd lost her trust when they'd gone behind her back. Coming to London to try and win her over was a nice touch, but would it work? She wasn't able to ask any of her questions, as Disney had finally found what he'd been looking for. "I also broke into your home to try and convince you too." He said, and his kind smile made his eyes twinkle. Charlie turned quite pink at his words. She was no one special, not compared to Mrs. Travers. He couldn't possibly have come all this way to ask her to return as well.

"I didn't want to go." She murmured, her gaze dropping to her teacup. She still felt guilty about leaving, and it was embarrassing to talk about her situation so candidly with the man she'd admired since she was a little girl. "But with my mother and all this stuff, I..." She gestured vaguely about the room. What she meant was her mother's possessions and the house that had fallen into her hands. She couldn't possibly return with Disney when she had so much to sort out. Walt nodded slowly, and when he spoke, his voice was soft.

"I understand." He told her in a tone she'd never heard him use before. She looked up at him timidly, but felt her courage begin to restore itself when she saw the kindness in his eyes. "But you see, I'm not only here on my behalf. I also have the very great honour of deliverin' this to you." Disney then reached across the table, holding what he'd been looking for in his hand. Charlotte glanced at the brown rectangle then up at Disney. He sensed her uncertainty and gave her a reassuring nod, waving the object about a little. Charlotte gingerly took the rectangle from him and realised it was an envelope. It was sealed and the handwriting on the front was her own. With one more reluctant glance up her old boss, she slid her nimble fingers under the flap and prised the envelope open. With no small amount of curiosity, she reached inside and pulled out a letter. Charlotte finally realised what he'd given her. She hadn't recognised it at first, but it was the letter that had gone missing. Her mother had never received it, so Charlie had assumed it had been lost on its journey to England, but here it was, perfectly unharmed in her hands.

Then she remembered what the envelope also included. A bubble of sickness rose in her throat as she open the folded piece of paper and out fell a photograph. Careful not to ruin it with her fingerprints, she held the picture by the corners and stared at the happy scene, now captured forever. She let her gaze travel over each bright, smiling face before she finally allowed herself to look at him. Charlotte hadn't expected the clench in her heart to be quite so powerful. Seeing Richard again, it brought everything back. All the pain and sadness she'd managed to suppress was loose again and stronger than ever. Oh, she missed him. Just seeing his face in the photograph nearly brought her to tears. They both looked so happy, so close. She could still feel her arm around his shoulders. She could imagine his scent and his laugh, the colour of his eyes. She wanted to be with him again more than anything.

"You know," Walt murmured as he reached for the teapot again. "He did run to that airport. He even tried to stop the plane from taking off, but they wouldn't listen." He chuckled as he refilled his teacup. "I think they thought he was crazy." Charlotte gave a disbelieving huff of laughter.

"He tried to ground an aeroplane?" She whispered, her voice suddenly eluding her. Though the situation had been desperate and so very dreadful, she could remember him saying that he was coming to get her. Perhaps in her state she hadn't thought he was being serious, perhaps she hadn't been thinking at all. Disney laughed again, he felt quite proud of his friend's actions. It showed a great deal of passion and courage to do what Dick had done. That was part of the reason why he'd visited Charlotte as well as Mrs. Travers. Though he had been shocked by the artist's actions, the quick explanation from the boys had helped him understand Charlotte's predicament. Dick had actually wanted to accompany him on his quest, but Walt had been worried about how this would interrupt their work. So, Dick had conceded and had remained in Los Angeles, but he'd made Walt promise to give Charlie the envelope.

"He really didn't want you to leave." Walt said dully, though he attempted a smile for her sake. "That boy just about drooped and wilted away after you left." Charlotte heaved a long sigh and leaned back in her chair, her eyes still trained on the photograph.

"I didn't want to hurt anybody." She mumbled. That hadn't been what Walt had meant and he scolded himself for his poor choice of words.

"I know, and so does he." He added quickly, trying to cheer Charlie up again. The artist's lips twitched, he decided that meant she understood him. Walt tilted his head to the side and dropped his voice again. "But, Charlotte, you musta known that boy was head over heels for you the moment you walked into that room." He urged, though he tried to keep his tone low. Charlotte's eyes flicked up to meet his and her mouth formed all sorts of funny shapes as she tried to come up with a coherent response.

"I don't... That's not..." Walt sighed, he was getting off topic. He hadn't come all the way to London to make her feel guilty, though that seemed about all he'd managed so far.

"I want you to come back." He told her, laying his hands flat on the table top. "You're just as much a part of this picture as I am." Charlotte wasn't sure that was completely true, but she admired the gesture. He leaned forward in his chair, his face growing serious. She hadn't seen him wear such an expression before. "You need to take the job in the Animation Department and you need to be there at the premiere of this wonderful picture. And then, after that, you need to stay and work on other movies, work with Dick, and Bob, and Don." Oh, how she would have loved to have said 'yes' right there and then. What he was describing was all she had ever wanted in life. He was offering her a childhood dream. But that's exactly what it was now, a dream. She had to be an adult about it, she couldn't just up and leave. At least, not again.

"But this is my house now." She replied, and she found that she was just as much trying to convince herself as she was Mr. Disney. "I couldn't possibly give it away." Walt didn't seem at all put off by her words.

"Then don't." He said simply. Charlotte exhaled sharply and rubbed her forehead, feeling slightly frustrated. How could Walt ever possibly understand what her life was like? He was a rich man with masses of friends and family. She was the opposite, with hardly a penny to her name and no one to help her.

"I can't afford to pay for a house I'm not going to live in, Walt." She told him, shaking her head slightly. Her family didn't own the house she lived in, and if she left, it would fall into someone else's hands. The only home she'd ever known would be scooped out and replaced with that of a new family. Walt's eyes still shined despite her objections.

"I'll think of something, I promise." He told her quietly. There was something in his voice, or perhaps in the look he was giving her, but it was then that Charlotte truly saw the magic and wonder that bloomed like sunflowers inside of Walt Disney. He had good times and bad, but he always tried to see the best in people, always tried to help when he could. His films had enchanted her her whole life, and here he was, the man himself, sitting at her kitchen table in the middle of the night with a determined promise in his eyes. Charlotte believed him when he said he'd think of something, she believed him when he said he'd fix everything. It was childish and she knew it, but she needed to hear that everything was going to be alright. He must have broken countless promises in his life in his bid to please everyone, but at that moment, Charlie knew he was telling the truth.

"Is he angry?" She whispered. Disney quirked an eyebrow, not sure what she was talking about.

"Who?"

"Richard." Her hazel eyes changed at the mention of his name. Walt couldn't be certain whether they'd grown lighter or darker, but there was something about Charlotte that always glowed whenever the musician was mentioned.

"Angry? God, no!" Walt scoffed, finding the idea ridiculous. "The poor guy's been miserable since you left. Don't know what's got into the guy. Hardly says a word. Does his work like he's supposed to, but he's not enjoying it." That had sounded much more encouraging in his head. Charlotte looked guilty and averted her gaze.

"I never wanted that to happen." She mumbled, her fingertips toying with the edge of the tablecloth. Walt gave a light shrug then drained his teacup.

"Only you can fix it." He told her. Charlie's hand rose to meet her other elbow, her thumb sliding back and forth comfortingly. A couple of seconds went past before she plucked up the courage to ask,

"You're not cross with me for leaving?" Walt eyebrows lifted in surprise. She was still worried about angering him, even after their conversation. He thought he'd managed to get her to calm down, but the artist still seemed to have her guard up. He sighed and settled his cup back down in the tray in front of him.

"I was worried about ya." He told her, and Charlie began to relax again. "We all were." Walt gazed at her warmly, then reached over and rested his hand on her shoulder. "You're family now, Charlie." Charlotte blushed and dropped her gaze, but her grin said it all. She hadn't expected such lovely sentiments from the filmmaker. She thought perhaps he was only trying to make her feel better, but his cordial expression allowed her to think otherwise. Walt's eyes moved over her face, trying to gauge her decision before asking slyly, "Does that smile mean you've accepted my offer?"


	18. Chapter 18

It wasn't often that Don, Bob, and Dick got to work before their boss, but that day was different. The spring sunshine should have brought smiles to their faces, but it only served to make the room unbearably stuffy. The trio were standing inside Walt's office, waiting for the filmmaker to return. No one had said anything for a while. They were all unspeakably anxious, which was chipping away at their patience. The air was heavy with anticipation, and it rested on the shoulders of the men, making the wait seem even longer. Through the open door, Don could see Tommie sitting at her desk. She'd agreed to let them know as soon as Disney walked through the door, so the writer watched the secretary like a hawk.

Finally, just as they were starting to get fidgety, she almost imperceptibly nodded her head and Don tapped the brothers. They both looked around just as Walt entered his office. They must have surprised him, because the filmmaker froze in the doorway. Dick's heart sank a little when he saw that Charlotte wasn't with him. Although, that didn't necessarily mean that she hadn't come back at all, so he still held onto a small sliver of hope. However that hope crumbled when Walt's expression turned grim. Though they hadn't said a word to him, Disney knew what they wanted to ask and they waited silently for the news. Eventually, Walt sighed and his shoulders lowered, shaking his head sadly. His simple actions said a thousand words and the boys all looked crestfallen. Neither Charlotte nor Mrs. Travers had returned to Los Angeles, which meant that all their hard work had gone to waste, and to make matters worse, they would not see their friend again.

Disney explained that he'd left the rights with the author, just in case she changed her mind. He seemed hopeful, but there was still a huge possibility that Mrs. Travers would not sign. Bob and Don listened intently to their boss' words, but Dick was only half paying attention. He'd truly believed that if she talked to Walt and saw the photograph of them again, then Charlie might change her mind. Clearly, he'd been wrong. He wanted to talk to her, but he didn't know if he had it in him. He wasn't angry, how could he be? But speaking to her always left him speechless, how would it feel to talk to her now that she was so far away? Even more troubling was the knowledge that if he heard her voice, he might break down altogether, which would be extremely embarrassing. For now, he would wait and see what happened. There was still a minuscule chance that she might come back. He'd never been one to give up easily, so he just had to be patient. Before he knew it, Don and Bob were excusing themselves, so he stood up from his chair and walked with them to the door. He was just about to close it behind him, when Walt's voice stopped him.

"I'm sorry, Dick." He said quietly. Richard looked up and was surprised to see Disney looking guilty. He shook his head quickly. It wasn't his fault, he didn't blame him in the slightest.

"No, don't worry, it's-" It wasn't fine, and they both knew it, so he stopped himself. Dick offered a weak smile and raised a hand in farewell. "Thanks for trying." He said finally, then he closed the door behind him. Don and Bob were waiting for him by Dolly's empty desk, both with matching gloomy expressions. All that was necessary had already been said, so Dick put on a false smile and nodded in the direction of the rehearsal room. "C'mon, let's get to work." He said, then began to walk away, not waiting for them to reply. Just because Mrs. Travers hadn't given them the rights yet didn't mean that they shouldn't keep working on the movie. If she did sign, then they didn't have long to work on it before its premiere date. Although the weight of Charlotte's departure still sat heavy in his heart, Dick knew that moping wouldn't solve anything. For now, he would carry on as normal, and pretend that her absence wasn't tearing him up inside.

* * *

Charlotte had wanted with all her heart to return to America, but it simply wasn't practical. She had to look after the house, she had to sort all of her mother's affairs, and she had a life in London, she couldn't just up and leave. Though Walt had looked disappointed, he'd said that he understood and wished her luck for the future. She returned the sentiments after he revealed that his next stop was the home of Mrs. Travers. Though, he'd muttered, if he couldn't get Charlie back, there was no way he would be able to persuade the author.

He left her the address of the studios so that she could write to them and the telephone number, for if she ever changed her mind. Charlotte kept the scrap of paper he'd written on safely tucked away in her drawer and would take it out every now and then. She couldn't bring herself to write yet, it still felt too raw. Though she knew that no one was angry with her, she still felt hopelessly guilty about the whole thing. Perhaps she would work up the courage to write to her friends soon, but for now, she would try to move on, as difficult as it may have seemed.

A week after Walt's visit, Charlie decided that she'd prolonged the inevitable long enough. She would have to go back to work, whether she liked it or not. It was her only source of income, and though it wasn't nearly as wonderful as her job in L.A, her work as an illustrator at the Publishing House was her only solace in hard times. She was always happiest when she was drawing, so she hoped it would keep her mind off things, distract her from the pull of America.

She had to take the train to work, which she had not missed in the slightest. Being jammed up against a complete stranger in a packed carriage was not normally fun, but when you were several feet underground, travelling at high speeds, the claustrophobia was overwhelming. Fortunately, the Publishing House wasn't far from her home, and a large part of the thirty minute journey was spent walking, so she wasn't packed like a sardine for long. It was only when she was ambling through the streets that she remembered just how much she adored her city. It was always colourful and busy, and though it was incredibly old, it was always changing. Her heels tapped a familiar beat as she strode across the paving stones, the steady rhythm soothing her nerves. She was grateful for what little comfort they provided, because she could see the towering, red building at the end of the road and it filled her with dread. Oh, she hated her job, she hated everything about it, especially the way it made her feel. Just thinking about the heartless company made her feel anxious and queasy, her skin beginning to crawl. But she'd made her bed and now she had to lie in it, so with gritted teeth and downcast eyes, she pushed open the heavy iron door and stepped inside.

She wasn't surprised to find that the old office floor looked exactly the same. All the layers in the building were identical. Even the people seemed to have been copied over and over until they lined the beige walls, filling the rooms up with a humdrum of monotony. It smelt of varnish and wood, and a strange scent that Charlie had never been able to pinpoint, but didn't particularly want to. It was full of what you might expect an office to contain: potted plants, lamps, clocks etc. Charlie hated it all so much, and seeing it again made her heart tug even more. Her co-workers were all still there, ignoring her as usual. It was as if she hadn't left at all. Billet and Smithe did not exactly embrace change, and seemed desperate to cling onto the way the world used to be, no matter what everyone else was doing. It didn't seem to have damaged their profits, though, which was all anyone seemed to care about. Apart from one girl, who right then, was glowering at Charlie as she approached her desk.

"Where the bloody hell have you been?" Celia hissed under her breath, glancing around to make sure no one listening. The receptionist had been Charlie's lifeline over the years, she had been the only genuinely nice person to talk to and they had quickly become friends. Charlotte smiled awkwardly and tiptoed closer, not wanting to disturb the work going on in the background.

"I went to America, you know that." She replied in a hushed voice, resting her hands on top of the reception desk. Celia narrowed her eyes at Charlotte and she removed her hands again. Well, they were sort of friends. Something about the younger woman made Charlie a little nervous. She had ringlets of bright blonde hair and a fair face, something the men of the office found extremely charming. Right now, her pink lips were curled bitterly as she nodded over her shoulder to the boss' office.

"You've been gone for weeks, whatshisface is furious." The young women muttered, all the while packing sheets of paper into a large envelope. Charlotte's stomach twisted at her words.

"He's angry?" She frowned, her mouth twisting with worry. "Why?" Celia rolled her eyes and stapled a few sheets together, although she didn't pay it very much attention so Charlotte guessed that they didn't need to be attached, she was just bored.

"I don't know, he doesn't tell me anything." She replied vaguely. "Go in and ask him." Charlotte pressed her lips together as worry started to well in her chest. She was often overlooked at work, so if her boss had taken the time to notice her, then things were definitely bad. She thanked Celia who grunted in reply, unhelpful as ever. The anxious feeling that the building always brought her increased tenfold as she approached the office. The door's window were marred, she couldn't see inside. The man's name was stencilled in gold on the glass, a grin reminder of who she was about to talk to. She felt sick as she knocked twice then twisted the door handle.

Johnathon Miller's office was sparse and cold and dark. The stained, grainy carpet scratched the bottom of her shoes and what little furniture he had wore tobacco stench like perfume. The man himself was studying a letter in his grubby hands. He didn't look up when the door clicked shut. Charlie waited a moment before raising her voice.

"Mr. Miller?" The man looked up at her finally, and to her surprise, he blinked once or twice, as if in a daze. She stood awkwardly in the doorway whilst he tried to work out if he was imagining her or not. Finally, he narrowed his eyes at her, his thick eyebrows knitting together.

"Charlotte." His tone was weighted with surprise. "You're back." Charlie bowed her head and tried not to look him directly in the eye. His face was pale, his hair greasy, and the thick air in the room clogged her nose, making it hard to breathe. She didn't like the look he was giving her. Suddenly she felt as if she were back in school, being scolded by the teacher. But this was far worse, and she struggled to keep her voice steady as she replied.

"Yes, I did say I would be." She had telephoned and told them of her arrival, although it seemed the message hadn't gotten through. She was sure it was all a misunderstanding and she'd be able to sort it, but then Miller's sharp, grey eyes turned cold, and she knew that it wasn't as simple as all that.

"You said you'd be gone for two weeks." He said darkly, steepling his fingers in a way that made him look like a villain in an old film. Charlotte felt her face grow hot and knew she must've gone bright red. Ah.

"Yes, about that-" She tried to explain her absence but in her panic, she found herself speechless. Mr. Miller unfortunately stepped in.

"You were gone for a month." He said abruptly. Charlotte attempted a smile but the man's face was stony and impassive.

"Yes, well-" She cleared her throat awkwardly, she had no idea what to say. Miller sighed and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"I'm sorry, Miss. Johnson-Liddle," He droned, although he didn't look the least bit apologetic. "But due to your falsehoods, we decided to give your position to someone else." Charlotte felt all the blood drain from her face.

"I'm sorry?" She breathed, her voice stolen away by the shock of his words. Miller's blank expression was devoid of any hint of empathy, not that she'd expected any.

"You're fired, Miss. Johnson-Liddle." He reiterated, interlocking his fingers and resting his elbows on his desk. Charlotte made a valiant attempt to respond, but any words that came out her mouth sounded strangled. This couldn't be happening, not after everything she'd been through. She'd abandoned her life in America in order to return to her one in London. Without her mother, she was completely alone, but now she had no source of income. How could she possibly look after herself without the job?

"Mr. Miller-" She tried to talk him round, but the old man raised a hand to silence her before she could even begin.

"You'll find the things at your desk in that box there." He continued, nodding to something over her shoulder. Charlie turned and saw a cardboard box supporting a potted plant and a multitude of other items situated just behind the door. She couldn't believe the brashness of it all. They'd packed up her many years with the company into a small box and were telling her that she was as good as gone. It was all so sudden, so unceremonious. Charlie was getting frustrated and she could feel her eyes growing hot, but she forced herself to stay calm. They would never take her seriously if she got upset. She turned back to her boss and took a step closer towards his desk.

"Please, Mr. Miller." She begged. "I need this job."

"Then you should've come to work." Miller cut her off with a disgustingly smug smile. Charlie looked away and gave a vague shrug.

"The work I was doing in California ran on a little longer than I'd expected." She explained. That was one way of putting it. What had actually happened was that she hadn't wanted to return, so she'd put it off for as long as possible. Miller sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"But you didn't contact us to inform us of this issue." He replied resolutely. Charlotte was beginning to feel sick. He was right, she should've told them. Why had she put it off? She had known there would be consequences.

"It wasn't an issue, I enjoyed it very much." She said, defending her beloved job, but she regretted it almost instantly. Mr. Miller raised his eyebrows at her and stood up from his desk.

"Then I suggest you go back to it, Miss. Johnson-Liddle." He told her, giving her that smile again that made her feel nauseous. Charlie's heart sank. She could slowly feel her resolve collapsing, but his last words had just about dashed it altogether. There was no feasible way that she could go back, even after Disney's offer.

"I can't." She murmured. She had no money, no family, and no way of keeping her house. Even though she wanted to return with all her heart, it was impossible. Her pragmatic character made any chance of spontaneity unthinkable. Mr. Miller tutted as he walked around his desk. He passed her without so much as a glance and began to unearth her box of things.

"Well, I'm sorry. Truly, I am." He said, although she didn't believe him for a second. "But this is a business. We simply couldn't sit and wait for you to come back from gallivanting about in America." Charlie watched him as he moved the bits and pieces out of the way, then finally got ahold of her box. He turned and held it out to her.

"But where will I go?" She asked, ignoring his gesture. Miller sighed and pushed the box into her hands then checked his watch. This made Charlie furious but she held her tongue, not wanting to get herself into even more trouble. He sat back down at his desk, picking up his papers again. It was very clear that he thought their meeting was over.

"A new shop just opened up down the road, try there." He told her carelessly. "In any case, it's much more suitable for a woman, you'll find the work much more manageable."

Since her daughter's birth, Charlotte's mother had worked hard to build a dam around her deepest, most coarse emotions. It wasn't ladylike to explode in public with a torrent of sharp and boorish words, and so Charlie had been taught from a young age to hold her tongue whenever she felt angry. Her manners kept her polite and civil, even in the company of the most impertinent of people. However, Miller had pushed her too far, and her mother was no longer around to scold her. The dam broke and Charlotte quite forgot her manners.

"Kiss my arse, Mr. Miller." She stated curtly. She wished she had a photograph of the look on her boss' face. He looked like he was about to faint with shock.

"I beg your pardon?" He hissed after a short, stunned silence. Charlotte hefted her box up into her hip, holding it in place with one hand so she could point at him crossly with the other.

"I said, kiss my arse." She repeated, her voice regaining its strength. Now that she had no job, she had no reason to be civil. She could finally tell him what she really thought of him. "It was horrible working here. It smells. The pay is terrible. My co-workers are idiots. You're an arsehole." It felt like a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. How long had she suffered there in silence? It was just a shame that it had taken her getting fired to finally speak what was on her mind. She smiled widely at the old man, but her eyes were stern and unforgiving. "Thank you for firing me, it's been most enlightening." She said, then she turned on her heel and walked to the door. She looked back over her shoulder just as she was leaving and nodded once. "Good afternoon." She told him, then she shut the door behind her. With her anger still fuelling her actions, she stalked past her stunned co-workers. In her state, she didn't notice that they'd fallen silent and were finally paying her some attention. She stormed past Celia's desk, where the younger woman was grinning inanely. Evidently, everyone had heard her outburst. The receptionist was extremely proud of her friend's uncharacteristic ferocity and she gave Charlie a thumbs up as she went by.

"That was cool." She told her. Charlotte didn't look at her as she swept past but she did reply,

"Thank you, Celia." Then she was gone. Down the flights and flights of steps, across the foyer and out of the door. Charlie stood on the pavement, the only person on the street who wasn't moving. She took in a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. Then with a jolt, she realised what she'd done, like Mr. Hyde turning back into Dr. Jekyll. "Oh, my God." She breathed, clutching the heavy box to her chest. Charlie's mouth fell open as she replayed the last few minutes over again in her head. Her lip twitched ever so slightly. She felt quite proud of herself, despite the obvious repercussions of her brash actions. With one last look up at the old building, she joined the current of pedestrians and let herself be swept off in the direction of the tube station. "Oh, you've really done it now."


	19. Chapter 19

**June**

"It's from Charlie!" Don's excited cry made the two brothers jump and their music ground to halt. The writer had suddenly burst into the room, wildly waving an envelope over his head. "We got a letter from Charlie!" He reiterated once he saw the befuddled expressions on their faces. The change was instantaneous. The Shermans sprang to their feet, though Bob a little more cautiously. Don was chuckling as he tore open the envelope. It was the first news they'd had from the woman herself, the first contact between them since she'd left a month before. The brothers crowded around the writer, both excited to see what she'd written.

"Read it out!" Bob urged, clapping Don on the shoulder. Dick was a little more hesitant but he desperately wanted to hear what Charlotte had written. Though the pain of her departure had passed, he still missed her dearly. Don cleared his throat, adjusted his glasses and began to read.

_My dear friends,_

_It feels like an age since we last spoke, and I feel I should first apologise for my abrupt departure. You are aware that when I left, my mother was dying. I hope you can understand that I had to leave and I hope you will forgive me._

_My mother passed away a month ago today. She was surrounded by her friends and family, so I take solace in that. Before she passed, I got to tell her all about you and how grateful I am for the time we spent together. I remain grateful, and I know I will never forget you._

_London is so different now that I've been to America. It doesn't feel quite like the home it used to be. I miss you all terribly, and I sincerely hope I see you again someday soon. It doesn't seem likely that I will return to America for a long while yet, which saddens me more than anything. I hope you'll write back, I don't know what I'll do if I don't hear from you. You are the greatest, most kind and caring friends that I have ever had and ever will have, and I cannot express through words just how grateful I am for your generosity and friendship._

_My address is written on the other side of this letter. Please, please write to me. I need to keep up with what's going on, with you all and the film. I hear that Mrs. Travers has not come back yet, which is terribly disappointing. Even though we live in the same city, I find it hard to believe that I shall ever see her again. I will, however, look for her everywhere I go, just as I search the crowds in vain for your faces._

_I miss you more than you'll ever know, and I wish you all every happiness._

_Yours faithfully,_

_Charlotte Johnson-Liddle_

The three men took a moment to absorb her words. It meant a lot that she still thought of them and they were glad she was happy. But there was still an echo of sadness in her letter, and they wished that she would come back. She seemed, like them, to remain hopeful, but they knew that the possibility of her return was slim. Don had been about to slip the letter back into its envelope when he saw another sheet already furled up inside. He frowned and drew it out.

"Oh, Dick, it's addressed to you." He realised, making the musician look up interestedly. Don held the other letter out to him, watching his face carefully. Though Dick had come to terms with Charlie being gone, he didn't want to stir up any unhappy feelings that might linger still. Dick tentatively took the paper from Don and read what was written there.

_My dearest Richard,_

He bit his lip and dropped his hand, raising his gaze to the ceiling so that he couldn't see the letter. Dick didn't want his emotions to get the better of him, so he gritted his teeth, trying to steel himself. While it no longer hurt to think of Charlie, he still longed for her with every fibre of his being, and reading her words was like hearing her voice once more.

"Are you okay?" His brother asked quickly, taking a furtive glance at the letter. He debated whether it would be better to take the letter from him, but he decided that would be too cruel. To settle his brother's nerves, Dick smiled thinly, shaking his head.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good." He assured him, although he wasn't so sure. He raised the letter again, determined not to let it get the better of him. With his resolve bolstered, he began to read again.

_My dearest Richard,_

_Thank you so much for returning the photograph. It reminds me of a better, happier time, a time spent with you. Not a day goes past where I don't think about you. You're my best friend, and I miss you. I miss you._

_The house I live in feels as if it belongs to someone else. It is not the home it used to be, but that is the least of my problems. When I returned to London, I wasn't surprised to find my job had been given away. You see, I had told them before I left that I would only be gone for two weeks, three at the most. I stayed for more than a month. I was so enraptured by the world around me, how could I possibly ever think about going back? That's why when McLaren offered me the job, I was over the moon, but I neglected to tell the company I worked for previously. I didn't think I would ever be coming back. But now I'm here. Now I'm alone._

_I have acquired a job in a shop, but it doesn't make me happy. If I'm not drawing, I'm not happy and if I'm not with you, I'm not happy. I wish I could return, I really do. I miss you. I miss your world and I miss our friends. But I can't come back. I'm not trapped, but you see, it would be difficult for me to leave. The house I'm living in was my mother's, but she didn't own it. This is the house I grew up in, it contains the last memories of both my parents. How could I ever possibly part with it?_

_If I never see you again, although it pains me to think of such a thing, please know that I am truly sorry for everything I put you through. I feel that I hurt you, and that is the last thing I would ever want to do. Knowing that I left you in such a way breaks my heart. It was cruel and I'm sorry, but I did need to leave. I hope that you understand, I need to know that you understand. It is tearing me apart thinking that I hurt you._

_Please, please write to me. As soppy and ridiculous as it sounds, I feel empty without you. I hope you know how much you mean to me. I miss you. I need you. I'll never stop needing you._

_With greatest sorrow and regret,_

_Charlie_

He must have looked as terrible as he felt, because he could feel Bob's hand on his arm.

"Dick?"

"Huh?" He looked up at his brother and saw that his forehead was creased with worry. Beside him, Don too was watching carefully. Dick shook his head, as if trying to wake himself up from a bad dream. "Oh, right, yeah, um... It's okay, don't worry, I'm just..." He shook his head again, trying to get Charlie's words straight in his head. He couldn't believe that she had written something so honest or so heartfelt. He stared at the letter, reading it over and over again before he couldn't take it anymore. He looked up at his colleagues who were still watching him like hawks. "I'm gonna go get something to drink." He told them in a much quieter voice than he'd have liked. His friends both looked disheartened but he ignored them, keeping his gaze on the floor as he walked towards the door. He heard his brother call after him,

"Dick?" He sounded worried but Richard smiled briefly at him. He'd made up an excuse to leave and they both knew it, but he needed time alone.

"I'll just be a minute." He assured him, though he didn't quite meet his eyes. Before they could say anything more, he'd shut the door behind him. They stood in silence for a moment, Charlotte's first letter still clutched tightly in Don's hand. Then the writer let out a long, woebegone sigh.

"Oh, man." He muttered. Bob grunted his agreement.


	20. Chapter 20

**July**

The first words Charlie heard as she pushed open the door were not in accordance with the hearty welcome you might expect to hear upon entering a shop.

"You're late." Her new boss grumbled, his thick arms crossed over his chest. Charlie sighed and carefully closed the door behind her. There was only one woman at the counter, clearly it wasn't as if they were drowning in customers, so she felt she had room to be playful.

"Good morning to you too, William." She replied airily, pairing her bright greeting with a warm smile. He was a lot taller than her and was built like a tree trunk, but William Worthing was not in the least bit threatening. Behind the counter, the other shop girl Zoë had to stifle a snort as she handed the woman her groceries. Will grumbled again and muttered under his breath as he followed Charlie around to the back of the shop.

"I'm serious, Charlotte." He continued, wagging his finger in an attempt at being serious. "If you're late one more time, I'm going to have to let you go." Charlotte sighed to herself as she turned to hang up her bag and let her smile drop while he couldn't see her. She didn't want him to see it was all a façade, a show of bravado, while on the inside she was only just keeping it together. When she finally faced him, her smile was back in place, but twisted to match her apology.

"Alright, I'm sorry." She told him sincerely. Will was nice and he treated her and Zoë much better than her bosses at Billet and Smithe. She didn't want to anger him, but her bus had been late and to make matters worse, there had been roadworks towards the inner city. Although she'd tried her best to get to work on time, it had been a nightmare of a journey. She didn't feel like arguing with him.

"It won't happen again?" He checked, his bushy eyebrows raised. Charlie chuckled and shook her head.

"It won't happen again." She promised. That seemed to pacify Will and he smiled at her warmly.

"Alright, go on." He told her, nodding towards the front of the shop. Charlotte forced another smile then went back out onto the shop floor. It was only a small store, situated on the corner of Clifford Street, just off Savile Row. They sold an all manner of things, from fruit and veg to medicines, and it had been in Will's family for years. Though with the growing industry just around the corner, he'd lost a lot of his employees. In fact, it had just been him and a local girl, Zoë, until Charlie had stuck her head around the door asking if they had any vacancies. As much as she hated the idea of meeting Mr. Miller's low expectations, she hadn't been able to find another illustrating job in the city. So, she'd returned to where she'd started, a shop girl, just like when she was a teenager. The pay was a lot less, Will paid them as much as he could afford, but it was enough to get by.

It was still early so there weren't that many customers, which meant Charlie and her new friend could chat whilst she got herself ready for work. They both stood behind the counter, but Zoë took control of the till whilst Charlie tied back her hair.

"Hiya." Zoë had said brightly, just as she was handing a man his change. Charlotte had smiled back before ducking her head and fumbling for her apron that was kept safely under the front desk.

"Hi."

"You're late." Charlie heaved an exasperated sigh and sent the woman a dark look. She was perhaps a few years younger than her, with short, dark brown hair and elfin features. She was always smiling cheekily and making sarcastic remarks, so of course they got on like a house on fire.

"I know." Charlie replied bitterly as she wrapped the apron around her waist, tying it neatly at the back. Zoë was ringing up their next customer's items, a handful of sweets for a little boy, but she glanced over her shoulder at her as she spoke.

"C'mon, Charlie. I know it's not fun, but it's better than nothing." She reasoned, taking the pencil that was always tucked behind her ear and jotting down the boy's purchases in the book Will liked to keep for his accounts. Charlie knew she was right, but she was finding it hard to accept her fate. A part of her still believed that she would be going back to America soon, but it was impossible. Zoë must've seen the melancholy look on her face because she squeezed her shoulder companionably. Charlie laughed and took her place at the till so she could refresh the shelves. "It'll be alright." Zoë went on as she hefted her heavy basket into her hip. "You're never going to find a job that you actually  _like_  doing." Charlie's smile faltered then. She  _had_  found a job that she liked doing. She'd found a job that she  _loved_. And she'd thrown it all away. But by some obscure turn in her fortunes, it was still waiting for her across the sea. She just couldn't reach it. Charlie made sure her ponytail was straight before pushing her morose thoughts to the back of her head and turning her attentions to the customer in front of her.

"Hi, how can I help?"


	21. Chapter 21

**August**

"Hey." Dick looked up from his work and smiled when he saw it was Don who'd addressed him.

"Hey!" He replied, whilst Bob, who was sat across the room, simply raised his hand in a wave. Don returned the smile, but only got halfway.

"How you feeling?" He asked, almost hesitantly. On some level, he still worried about his friend. Dick seemed perfectly happy and still enjoyed his job, although the stress of it all was starting to worsen as they grew closer to the premiere date. Dick nodded his head, tapping his pencil rhythmically as they talked.

"Okay." He supposed, not sure why Don was looking at him so strangely. He didn't want anyone to step on eggshells around him, but he also didn't want to voice what they were all thinking. Charlotte had been gone for three months, but since her letter, they hadn't heard anything from her.

"What did you wanna do today?" Don asked, clearly he was happy with Dick's mood and felt like they could move on to the task at hand. It was Bob who answered. He'd glanced at the window and made an annoyed sound.

"Something fun." He told them, frowning at whatever it was that had displeased him. "I need cheering up." They looked at him curiously so he nodded to the windows with another annoyed grunt. "It's just started to rain." Don and Richard looked around at the wall behind them and saw that Bob was right. Perhaps the pressure and heat outside had simply grown too much, because droplets of rain were splattering onto the window. As they watched, the light shower swelled into a torrent, the water crashing against the windows in what appeared to be the beginnings of a summer storm.

"Wow." Don murmured as they watched the rain. The only sound in the room was the rolling sky outside and pellets of rain on the glass. It wasn't often that they saw rain like this, so they sat in a companionable silence and watched the weather for a while. After a few minutes, Don and Bob turned back to their work, trying to decide which song to work in that day. However, Dick's gaze stayed on the sky.

The last time it had rained like this, he'd been with Charlie. They'd been outside, just standing there in the storm, laughing madly. He could still remember how beautiful she'd looked, even with her hair plastered to her skin and her make up beginning to run. She'd had a smile on her face that could've brightened the metallic sky. He wondered what she was doing right then, right that second, and if she was thinking about him too. It wasn't long before his fond memories were interrupted by someone calling for him.

"Dick?" The younger Sherman finally tore his gaze away from the window and looked blankly at his brother for a second.

"Hm?" Both he and Don were staring at him, waiting for an answer to a question he'd missed. He shook his head slightly and grinned. "Oh, I'm fine." He guessed an answer. He seemed to have chosen correctly because their shoulders relaxed. "What did you wanna do?" Bob shrugged, holding up a couple of pages of sheet music.

"Chim Chim Cher-ee?" He suggested, waving the music enticingly. Don raised his eyebrows as he took the music from Bob.

"I haven't heard that one yet." He realised, giving the pages a quick once over. Dick chuckled as he reached out for the sheet music.

"Well, prepare to be amazed." He said grandly, shuffling the papers into place then immediately picking up the tune. "Chim chim-in-ey, chim chim-in-ey, chim chim cher-ee! A sweep is as lucky, as lucky can be! Chim chim-in-ey, chimchim-in-ey, chim chim cher-oo! Good luck will rub off when I shakes 'ands with you!" Don took a seat by Bob at what used to be Charlie's desk as he listened to the music. "Or blow me a kiss and that's lucky too!" His audience laughed then, and Don raised his eyebrows.

"Nice accent." He commented. Dick shrugged, although he looked a little smug.

"I've been practicing." He replied quickly, before he once again delved into the song. "Now, as the ladder of life 'as been strung, you might think a sweep's on the bottommost rung. Though I spends me time in the ashes and smoke, in this 'ole wide world there's no 'appier bloke."

Halfway through the second chorus, Bob got up and joined him at the piano, not wanting to miss out on the fun. They loved the song, Bob thought perhaps it might even be his favourite.

"I choose me bristles with pride, yes, I do. A broom for the shaft and a brush for the flue." The eldest Sherman said proudly. Then the music turned eerie, a gentler version of its former self. "Up where the smoke is all billered and curled, 'tween pavement and stars is the chimney sweep's world. When there's 'ardly no day, nor 'ardly no night, there's things 'alf in shadow and 'alfway in light."

"On the rooftops of London..." Dick sang softly, then his gaze grew distant as he thought back to Charlotte again. The song reminded him of her, although she was in no way similar to Bert the chimney sweep. She loved her city, and the song encompassed all that was beautiful about it's not too distant past. "Coo, what a sight."

"Chim chim-in-ey, chim chim-in-ey, chim chim cher-ee!" Continued Bob, bringing Dick out of his reverie. "When you're with a sweep you're in glad company."

"Nowhere is there a more 'appier crew than them wot sings 'chim chim cher-ee, chim cher-oo!' Chim chim-in-ey chimchim, chim-in-ey chim cher-oo!" Don applauded when it was over, as he always did.

"Great. That's a great song."

"Thank you. Thank you." Bob replied as he took a ceremonious bow, chuckling all the way, however Dick had grown quiet again. When their caterwauling finally ceased, Don and Bob both knew exactly what had captured his attention. They let him be with his thoughts for a little while, knowing he would be of no use to them if they didn't. When they finally did attempt to bring him back, they almost had to shout over the sound of the tremendous noise outside. Dick stared at them again, his eyes glazed.

"Hm? What?" Don was scribbling something down in his notebook, so he didn't look up, but he spoke all the same.

"I was saying it's a shame about that other song, what was it called? The one Julie didn't like?" Dick immediately knew which one he was referring to and he let out a haughty sigh.

"She liked it, but we unanimously agreed that it didn't fit the story." He corrected the writer, making Bob smile slightly. Ms. Andrews was to be their leading lady and she, like Mrs. Travers, had a lot of ideas. She was a lovely lady, and they greatly admired her work, but it was a little discouraging to hear that their work didn't quite fit the film. But he supposed he was being petulant. Not every song was perfect, and there'd be plenty more in the future that weren't chosen.

"Well, I liked it." Don assured him, raising his eyebrows pointedly. Dick knew what that look meant so he pulled out the right sheet music and began to play.

"Until you learn to see with your heart, beauty hides behind the common place. But through the eyes of love, you can start seeing beauty face to face." It was a sweet song, written by Bob and himself in the early hours of the morning a few weeks ago. It didn't quite click with the picture, but it was nice all the same. "Reality can be all you wanted to be, there's a golden sun, there are silver skies. You see your castles rise through the eyes of love, as winter snow only hides the flowers below." Despite the tempest going on outside, the gentle music warmed the hearts of the rehearsal room's loyal inhabitants. "Every face and everyday place conceals a beauty it reveals to the eyes of love." As he played the last few poignant notes, Don nodded his head.

"Lovely." He praised them. Bob shrugged, nudging his brother's arm.

"A little gooey." He admitted. Dick laughed and so did Don, but he did go on to add,

"But lovely."


	22. Chapter 22

**September**

"Thank you, have a lovely day." The customer smiled back at Charlie as she handed him his bags, then the ringing of the bell above the door as he left marked the end of another day's work. Charlotte sighed wearily and leaned her elbows on the counter top, then buried her face in her palms. It wasn't exactly exhausting work, but it was boring and monotonous, so the hours stretched on and on. Zoë was restocking the shelves when she noticed Charlie slumped over the counter. They hadn't known each other long, but she could tell when she needed a little encouraging.

"Cheer up." She called over to her friend, smiling when she groaned in reply, the sound muffled by her hands. Charlie lifted her head and watched her tidy the shelves.

"No, I shan't." She grumbled. She heard her new friend laugh as she disappeared behind a display case. Not wanting to look idle, Charlie began to clean the counter, putting the odd bits and bobs back in their rightful places. A rabble of schoolchildren had come in that day, fresh from their first day back at school, and had turned the shop upside down in a quest for sweets.

"C'mon, it's not all bad." Charlie did like Zoë and thought she was perfectly amiable, but she was always so bloody optimistic and right then, she was in the mood for grumbling, not optimism. She was replenishing a line of pill bottles when she heard Zoë's contemplative tone continue. "Although, it does look like it's going to rain and I didn't bring an umbrella." She added bitterly. Charlie raised her head and looked in the direction of the shop window. She could just about see a rectangle of sky through the crowded display and saw that it was indeed miserable outside.

"Rain..." She repeated, her hazel eyes never leaving that patch of sky. Zoë made a confused sound as she rounded the display case.

"Yes, that's right." She told her, giving her a funny look. Charlie continued to stare out of the front window, and Zoë was just starting to get worried when she finally snapped out of it.

"What's the time?" Charlotte asked, as if it hadn't happened. Her friend was a little taken aback by her sudden question but she glanced at her watch.

"Home time." She replied with a crooked smile. Charlie finished putting the last of the items on the shelf then turned to Zoë with an ecstatic grin.

"Fantastic." She said brightly.

The two grabbed their things and parted ways at the tube station. Zoë lived nearby in a flat with three of her friends, so Charlotte had to say goodbye to her before she followed the district line home. It had passed rush hour by the time they'd finished, so the journey was relatively quiet, which she was thankful for. Her job was great and she was thankful for it, but she always ended up with a raging headache by the time she got home.

The gorgeous smell of cooking hit her nose as soon as she stepped in the door. That meant Clara was there, which she was also grateful for. She didn't feel like making dinner for herself, which was probably the healthier option as her cooking was sub-par at best. She hummed a tune to herself as she dropped her keys in their dish by the door and hanged up her coat. Before she knew it, she was singing along, the words leaving her lips without even thinking about it.

"Feed the birds, tuppence a bag." She kicked off her shoes and meandered down the hall. "Tuppence, tuppence, tuppence a bag. Feed the birds, that's what she cries, while overhead, her birds fill the skies." The kitchen was glowing with light and she'd guessed correctly, Clara was busy at the stove. She kissed her neighbour's old cheek fondly and Clara patted her shoulder in return, not taking her eyes off the boiling pot in front of her.

"That's a pretty tune." She said as Charlotte sat down at the kitchen table. The artist paused, only just realising what she'd been singing. Her lips parted in a smile of their own accord and she exhaled sharply.

"A friend wrote it." She replied softly.

After dinner, Charlie cleared away their plates and began to wash up, a gesture in return for Clara's generosity. Whilst she was cleaning the plates, she heard the old woman gasp, as if she'd just remembered something.

"This came for you in the post." She heard her say, and she craned her neck to look over her shoulder at her. Her neighbour was holding a package with a dozen stamps on it and familiar handwriting on the front. "It's from America." She added. Charlotte immediately tore off her rubber gloves and dove for the package. She hadn't heard from her friends in months, she thought they'd probably forgotten about her by now. She ripped open the package, finding it contained a small cardboard box. She could hardly conceal her glee as she prised it open to see what they'd sent her. Clara's silver eyebrows drew together as she watched Charlotte's hand rise to her mouth, her eyes wide with surprise. "What is it then?" She prompted her, quickly growing impatient. Charlie looked up at her with a mad grin and raised the contents of the box. It was a stack of drawings, all hers, tied together with string. They had been the ones posted up on her wall, the ones that weren't needed for the film. Then underneath those, she found a letter, which she read in a matter of seconds. She recognised Don's lovely handwriting, he told her all about what they'd been up to and the latest news on the film. He ended the letter by saying she should write back soon and that they missed her. It was enough to bring tears to her eyes. Clara was still frowning curiously at the gift, turning the papers over in her hands. "Who's it from?" She queried. Charlotte realised that she hadn't told her friend very much about her time in L.A and promptly had an idea. She reached for a kitchen drawer and pulled out the photograph of the four of them by the piano.

"They're my friends." She told her, then pointed them all out, naming them in turn. She hadn't looked at the picture since Disney had given it to her and the ache in her chest that had dulled over the past months flared up again. Clara noticed that Charlotte's excited expression had slipped slightly at the sight of her American friends, and she squeezed her shoulder.

"Oh, darling, I'm sorry. You must miss them terribly." Charlotte sniffed loudly and tried to knock herself out of it, but the sight of her friends and their lovely present was almost too much.

"More than I can say." She whispered, finding her voice had vanished. She gave Clara a quick smile to let her know that she was alright before she tidied her things away and went upstairs to her room. Once she was settled and ready for bed, she pulled her drawings out again. It was so kind of them to forward them, some of the pieces meant an awful lot to her. She sifted through the pictures carefully: the oak tree, the view from her window, Mary Poppins, the children.

The drawings went on and on until she reached the final picture. It stopped her heart to see it again. The adorably crooked drawing of herself, its creator's signature down at the bottom. She smiled at the memory, for once not feeling sadness at the thought of him. She had been about to pack them safely away when she saw something through the paper. She could see writing on the other side that hadn't been there before. She flipped the drawing over and scanned the page. What she read took her breath away.

_I need you too._


	23. Chapter 23

Although taxis lined every street, waiting in anticipation for someone to come along, Dick had chosen to walk home from the studios that evening. The warm summer days had long since passed and the nights had grown darker. At that time of year, the trees were just beginning to brown and nights were long and still, but the air was warm in the city, and despite it almost being winter, few had chosen to adorn themselves with heavy coats and thick scarves.

It wasn't far to his house, but far enough that he didn't like to walk every day. He'd usually get a cab, but Dick had been admiring the glittering sky from behind the windows of the rehearsal room all evening and had wanted to see it for himself. So, he'd said goodbye to his friends at the studios and had walked into the city. He had to cut right across the middle to get home, but it was worth it, just to catch a glimpse of the ethereal beauty of the night sky.

It was his favourite time of year, when the days grew shorter and the nights longer, the skies were black as pitch and he could see the stars as clear as was possible in that glowing part of the world. He swung his arms as he walked, carrying his jacket as it was far too warm for him to wear it comfortably. Just twenty minutes later, he was in his neighbourhood. It wasn't a particularly beautiful part of town, but it was home. He'd moved around so often in his life, it was comforting to have somewhere he could call his own. He waved to a neighbour on the other side of the street just as he reached his house, and they spoke briefly about the day. They laughed before saying their goodbyes again and Dick turned to unlock his front door.

Once inside, he heaved a long sigh and kicked off his shoes. Next his jacket was thrown over a chair and his waistcoat removed. He rubbed his tired eyes with his thumb and index finger as he ambled through to the kitchen, going through the motions of his evening routine. Lonely dinner, television for an hour, play around with some ideas for music, read a book, get ready for bed. It was terribly mechanical. He'd been repeating the same beaten path for months now. Somehow the cyclical habit he'd gotten himself into seemed to take his mind off how sad he was.

Brush teeth, wash face, get changed, into bed. It was the same every day, and he feared it would continue to stay like that forever, but he was unable to break the methodical pattern he'd created for himself. Even just recognising that he'd developed a routine felt somewhat surreal, as if he were suddenly becoming self-aware.

The next morning, he didn't have to be at work until later, so he had taken his time getting ready. His hands were on either side of the bathroom sink as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. When had he started to look so pale? So drawn and exhausted? He reached up and experimentally prodded the thick rings under his eyes. He hummed in displeasure, his reflection frowned back at him.

Dick knew there was no use being sad. It wouldn't bring her back. They'd had weeks to prepare for her departure before she'd left, so why did it feel like a blow to the gut just thinking about it? Charlie had left six months ago, half a year, and still he missed her. He'd never stop missing her. He bent his head, not wanting to look at his tired face any longer.  _What to do, what to do._ What Dick hated the most was that it was a ridiculous circumstance that was keeping them separated. Charlie had expressed her wishes to return, but her home in London was precious to her, and now she didn't have her job at the Publishing House, she couldn't afford to buy it. If it weren't for the money, she'd probably be with him right at that moment.

Oh, he wanted to talk to her. He'd never forget her voice, not in a million years, but he would give anything to hear her again, rather than replay the memories that were safely kept inside his head. His chest ached at the thought of her, to hear her voice might break his heart altogether, but it would certainly be worth it. He looked up at his reflection again, trying to gauge whether he'd actually just made such a mad decision. His own eyes stared back at him, they looked decidedly more determined than he felt.

"Screw it." He muttered. Dick pushed himself away from the basin and grabbed the telephone receiver in his bedroom. He waited patiently for someone to pick up his call, and tried to keep his voice steady when he was finally connected. "Hi, I'd like to be put through to London, please?"

* * *

The sound of the front door slamming shut alerted Clara of Charlotte's arrival. She tutted to herself, scolding the girl under her breath for such brash actions. She had been about to voice her protestations when Charlie walked into the kitchen, but the weary look on the girl's face stopped her. She knew Charlotte wasn't happy, but she usually tried to put on a brave face. That night, however, it appeared she'd grown tired of pretending. Her eyes were dull, her mouth set in a grim line, not her usual self at all.

"Hello, darling." Clara greeted her, knotting the tea towel in her hands anxiously. Charlie's smile, though weak, did provide her with some comfort.

"Hi." She replied quietly, though she did give her a hug and a kiss as she usually did. Clara was glad that she wasn't feeling too low, but she thought it would be best to distract her all the same.

"How was work?" She inquired, turning back to the stove where the potatoes for dinner were just beginning to boil. Charlotte sighed and shrugged her shoulders.

"It was alright. Same old, same old." She answered, her voice growing fainter as she went back out into the hall to hang up her things. When she came back into the kitchen, Clara had one hand on the wooden spoon she was using to expertly prod the potatoes, and the other was propped up on her hip, a gesture Charlie had leaned meant she was about to receive a thorough talking to.

"Are you alright, darling?" Her old neighbour asked her seriously, her eyes stern behind her thick spectacles. Charlotte thought about lying, but she knew she'd given too much away in her dreary expression to convince her otherwise. She grunted and flopped down at the kitchen table, like a puppet with no strings.

"I'm absolutely exhausted." She replied, then rubbed her forehead as if to prove it. Clara hummed her agreement.

"I'll bet." She said, glancing over her shoulder at the younger woman. "Dinner will be ready in a few minutes, why don't you get yourself settled?" Charlie was impossibly grateful for the way that Clara had looked after her since she'd come back to England. The older woman had practically moved in, she hadn't even had to ask. She made sure she ate and that her clothes were washed and dried. She restocked the cupboards when Charlie forgot and cooked most nights. Charlotte thought perhaps the old woman was lonely, but the reason for her kindness was of little importance. She was so thankful for all that she'd done, but that night, she just wasn't up to it.

"It's awfully kind of you, but I don't think I'll have anything." Charlotte said tentatively. She didn't want to sound ungrateful, but all she wanted was to crawl into her bed and forget about her day. Clara's bespectacled gaze turned back to her, her silver eyebrows drawn together in concern.

"Are you sure?" It was unlike Charlie to turn down food, perhaps it was worse than she'd feared. The younger woman raised her hand and waved off her worries, giving her a smile for good measure.

"Yes, yeah, I'm just not hungry." She assured her with a tight smile. Clara studied her for a moment, her sharp eyes set in a way that seemed as if she were able to read her thoughts. Charlie swallowed thickly. She didn't want to tell Clara why she was really upset. She would sound petulant and terribly unappreciative. Clara had done nothing but care for her since she'd come back, and to voice what was really troubling her would make her sound astonishingly selfish.

"You look a bit pale, are you sure you're feeling alright?" The older woman said slowly, her eyes still fixed on her. Charlie forced a smile as she got up from the table.

"I'm just tired, Clara. Don't worry." She reassured her, though she wasn't entirely certain that she believed her. "Sorry about dinner. Just leave some for me and I'll have it later." Clara watched her as she walked to door.

"Are you sure, dear?" She called after her, making one last attempt to get the truth out of her, but Charlie shook her head, never quite meeting her eyes.

"Yes, just- I don't, um..." She sighed and rubbed her forehead again, she was beginning to get a headache. She didn't want to be angry with Clara, but her constant questions were starting to aggravate her. She knew it wasn't her fault and she was only concerned about her, but all she wanted was sleep. "I think I'm going to go to bed." She gestured vaguely to her bag which was still on top of the kitchen table. "I, er, brought home the Evening Standard. There's some cake in there too, if you want it. It's from the bakers down the road." She waved goodbye to her neighbour, giving her one last faux smile. "If anybody calls or knocks, just tell them I'm busy." She requested, then said goodnight and left the room.

"Alright, darling. Sleep well." Clara called up to her, listening to her heavy footsteps on the old stairs.

"You too!" Came the faint reply. Clara twisted her lips, tapping her foot on the floor as she mulled over what had just transpired between them. She turned back to the stove and stirred the pot boiling there. She knew that Charlie missed her friends in America, but she didn't think she would be that upset about it. Her new job wasn't exactly what she'd envisioned for herself, but it was only temporary. She sighed, glancing towards the kitchen door. "Oh, dear." She murmured to herself.

Just then, the telephone rang in the living room. The sudden shrill ring made her jump as it interrupted her thoughts, but Clara quickly recovered and went to answer the call. Upstairs, Charlie was getting ready for bed. She could hear the phone ringing, but was thankful that Clara answered so that she could sleep.

Lately, she hadn't been feeling like herself. Her life was very different now, so at first she'd decided she just needed time to adjust. But ample time had passed now, and still she felt as if her new life were only temporary. She picked up Dick's drawing from its place on her bedside table and studied his short note again.  _I need you too._  The sharp tug in her chest made her feel sick right down to her stomach. She finally realised why she couldn't settle. Though her mind and body were in London, she'd very much left her heart in Los Angeles. With a groan, she flopped down onto her bed and stared blankly at her ceiling. She missed him more than anything. All she wanted was to see him again. Although, it was very likely that if she did see him, she wouldn't be able to control herself, and she'd probably leave London without a second thought, damn the consequences. But would that be such a bad thing? She looked around the room she'd lived in all her life. Giving up her home would be hard, in fact it would be impossible. Or maybe she was being stupid. Surely her relationship with Richard was worth more than anything. But what if she'd misjudged the whole situation? If things didn't work out between them, she'd be stranded in a foreign country with no home.

Charlotte groaned again and covered her face with her hands. Perhaps things would be better in the morning. The cold, black winter nights in London did nothing to lighten her mood. She longed for the summer days, days spent with Richard and her friends. Thinking about him made it feel like she had a stone in the pit of her stomach and her heart would always beat that little bit faster.

"Tomorrow." She whispered to herself. "Tomorrow will be better." She fell asleep soon after that, listening to the sound of her neighbour taking on the phone downstairs.

* * *

Although it wasn't necessary, not to Clara anyway, Charlie had woken up early the next day to make breakfast for her and her neighbour. It was partly to thank her for how wonderful she'd been since she'd got back, but also to apologise for the night before. Usually, Charlotte couldn't be seen until almost midday on a Saturday, but that morning, Clara had popped round to find the girl already up and dressed, standing at the stove.

"Bacon's on its way." Charlie had called to her without even looking round. "There's eggs and toast already on the table." Clara was surprised but didn't dare question her neighbour's new-found energy. She sat down at the table as she'd been instructed and tucked into the first meal she hadn't prepared for herself in a very long time. A few minutes later, Charlie brought over the sizzling bacon and they sat and had breakfast together, all thoughts of their grey yesterday gone from their minds. Charlie had gone back for seconds and had offered Clara some more, but the older woman shook her head.

"Not for me, thank you. I'm leaving in a few." Charlie frowned curiously as she sat back down with a refreshed plate of eggs.

"Where're you off to then?" She asked.

"Oh, nothing exciting. Just visiting a friend in Kingston." Charlie chewed thoughtfully on her food then smiled at her friend.

"Oh, alright. I'll have a relaxing day then." She decided. Clara looked pleased with her choice. Normally Charlie was going a mile a minute, back and forth across London looking for jobs, shopping, or sorting money, an all manner of errands that meant she never really had any time to herself. Her weekends were also usually spent at the shop, but it appeared she had the day off.

"You've certainly earned it." Clara told her, patting her hand fondly. "You work too hard, dearie. You do too many hours at that shop. I've a right mind to march down there and tell your manager what's what." Charlie chuckled at her words, picturing the scene in her head. Her boss Will was about twice the size of little, old Clara, but there was no doubt that she'd be a fearsome foe.

"I daresay he'd be quite frightened of you." She told her, taking a languid sip of her tea, her third of the day. Clara gave a haughty sniff and nodded her head once.

"And rightly so." She replied firmly, making Charlotte laugh again. Then her expression grew serious and she wagged a finger at the girl. "You need to go easy on yourself, love. I know you're trying to keep busy, but there's a limit." Charlie placed her cup back on its saucer and smiled kindly at her neighbour.

"I know. I'll bear that in mind. Thank you." She said, and she truly meant it. She knew that sometimes she overdid it, but keeping herself busy was the only way to distract herself from the sadness that still sat inside her. She supposed her last thought must have been reflected in her face, because Clara looked sympathetic and patted her hand again. Thankfully, before things got too maudlin, the letterbox clattered out in the hallway, followed by a heavy thump.

"Oh, there's the post." Clara cried, jumping out of her seat in a way Charlie might've thought impossible at her age if she hadn't known her better. She smiled to herself and looked down at the clothes she was wearing. It was an old dress, one she hadn't taken with her to L.A, but it was comfortable. However, the stitching was coming loose in some places and one or two of the buttons on the front had long since disappeared.

"Actually, I might join you in Kingston. I need to get a new dress, this one's almost falling apart." Charlotte called to Clara who was still out in the hall. She pulled at the front of the dress, testing its strength just as her neighbour came back in.

"I'll sew it up for you, if you like." She offered, not looking up as she sifted through the post. She passed it all over to Charlotte then took the morning newspaper for herself. Charlie thanked her and began to tear open the scariest looking of the envelopes.

"Oh, don't worry, I need some new clothes anyway." She replied, her voice quieter as she read the latest bill. Now she was the only one left in her family, worries like bills and taxes and all sorts of other scarily grown up things had fallen to her. Clara helped whenever possible, but sometimes Charlie didn't feel nearly ready to be in charge of such things. She chewed the inside of her cheek as she studied the electricity bill.  _Money, money, money._  She hated the whole rotten game. Where on Earth was she going to get the money to pay for all these things? Charlie had tried looking for another job, but no one was asking for an artist. There had been a position at the local newspaper, but it was unpaid and though she loved the idea of being able to draw again, she had to be practical.

"Oh, how strange." Charlotte looked up at Clara's curious tone and saw her neighbour had her head buried in the newspaper. She'd forgotten her glasses again, so she had to hold the paper about two inches from her nose to be able to see it properly. Charlie chuckled at the image, glad to be distracted from her troublesome responsibilities.

"What's that?" She asked, leaning forward and resting her elbows on the table. She propped her chin up on her hand as Clara tapped the page she was reading.

"This man in the paper, he was on the telephone yesterday evening." Well, that was certainly unexpected. Charlie had assumed she would be complaining about a politician or an idiotic article, so Clara's words were very surprising.

"Pardon?" She frowned at Clara, who was studying the page hard, making sure that she hadn't made a mistake.

"Yes, how odd." She told her. "He called while you were asleep." Charlie's skin prickled and she felt a strange sort of tug in her stomach, almost as if she knew what was going to happen, but she couldn't be sure why.

"Can I see?" She asked, and her tongue felt as heavy as lead. She held out her hand for the newspaper and Clara passed it over. They laid it out flat on the table and the older woman tapped the photograph.

"The article's about that new film. You know, the one based on that book you love." Charlie looked to where she had pointed and felt her heart stop beating.

"Oh, my God." She breathed, leaning closer to get a better look. The article was all about the exciting new film, 'Mary Poppins', Walt Disney's latest creation. Charlie didn't bother reading what the column had to say, but instead skipped straight to the photograph Clara had pointed out. She could hardly breathe as she studied the picture, the picture of her friends Don and Bob and, in-between them, her Richard.

"He was American, but he was lovely, very understanding." Clara went on, blissfully unaware of the state Charlotte was in. Then she seemed to realise something. "Oh, is that the film you were working on?" Charlie didn't reply, Clara's words had fallen on deaf ears. Charlotte tentatively touched the picture, her fingertips brushing his face.

"Richard..." She breathed, hardly believing that she was seeing him again.

"Yes, that was his name. Richard Sherman." She pointed to where the names of the men in the photograph were mentioned in the article. "He asked how you were getting on and said that he'd got your letter." She blinked innocently at Charlie, who could hardly believing what she was hearing. "Do you know him well?" Charlie's mouth had fallen open in shock, her eyes impossibly wide. She turned her head to Clara, and gawped at her for a second before finally realising what she'd asked.

"Yes." She stammered eventually, looking back at the photograph again. He had called her? He had called her and she'd missed it? The thought was agonising. They had come so close once again, only to be kept apart by an unfortunate set of circumstances. But this coincidence, seeing him in the newspaper, perhaps that was Fate's way of apologising for all the trouble she had caused. Still she stared at the photograph, her heart rate quickening as she took in his crooked grin and kind eyes. She missed him so much. "He was... He's my best friend." She told Clara, who had to strain her ears to hear her. Her voice had fallen to just above a whisper, but she hadn't noticed. Clara tutted and reached over, squeezing the girl's shoulder comfortingly.

"Oh, darling. I'm sorry." She murmured. Charlie shook her head. Something strange was happening, something inside her head. She had thought about what would happen if she saw him again at great length, but never had she thought it would actually happen. The only photograph she had of Richard was shoved to the back of a kitchen drawer, the memory too painful to revisit.

"No, no, it's..." She was speaking but she had nothing to say. Her eyes still hadn't left the photograph of the man she adored. Suddenly, she couldn't remember what is what that was keeping them separated. "He's very important to me." She whispered, finally tearing her gaze away. Clara frowned at her neighbour, not recognising the peculiar look she had on her face. She seemed to be trying to make a decision about something, or rather, she had made the decision, and now she was making sure it was a good one.

"Charlotte?" Clara asked after the woman hadn't said anything for a full minute. Her question seemed to snap Charlie out of whatever it was that she'd fallen into, and when she met her gaze, her eyes were clear and bright. Something has changed. Charlotte suddenly pushed her chair back from the table, her breakfast long since forgotten.

"Sorry, I need to..." She was smiling strangely, as if she couldn't quite believe what was happening. "I need to..." Charlotte met her eyes again and gave her the first proper smile she'd seen on the girl in six months. "Clara, I need to make a phone call." She told her determinedly. Then before she could say anything else, Charlie had rushed out of the kitchen and was rocketing up the stairs. Clara tried calling after her, but it was no use, she was long gone.

Charlotte burst into her bedroom and slammed the door shut behind her. She pressed her back up against the door, trying to catch her breath. Was she really going to do it? Was she really going to throw caution to the wind and do it? With a breathless laugh, Charlie realised that, yes, of course she was going to do it. She dove for her chest of drawers and pulled out the note Disney had left for her. She scrambled to turn the rotary dial of the telephone, repeating the numbers out loud for herself as she read them off the scrap of paper. The phone began to ring. She waited with baited breath, hoping with every fibre of her being that someone picked up before she lost her nerve.

"Hello, Walt Disney Productions, you're speaking to Dolly. How may I help you this evening?" Charlie let out a relieved laugh and raised a hand to her forehead, hardly believing what she was about to do.

"Dolly, hi, it's-"

"Charlie!" The reception squeaked, immediately recognising her voice. Charlie gasped and hurried to calm her down.

"Shh! Shh! Dolly!" As wonderful as it was to talk to the woman, she didn't want the whole company knowing she was on the phone.

"How're you doing?" Dolly asked cheerily, hungry for details as always. Charlie sighed, she didn't really have time for small talk, she was on a mission.

"I'm great, but Dolly-"

"I'll fetch Dick for ya."

"No, no, Dolly-"

"He'll be so excited to hear from ya. You know, he misses you like crazy."

"Dolly!" She cried suddenly, so loud she thought she must have deafened the poor secretary. She apologised quickly, but she didn't want Dick to now she was calling. "I need to talk to Walt, is he busy?" The secretary hummed awkwardly, and Charlie began to knot the telephone cable around her fingers as her nervousness grew.

"Oo, he's just on his way out." Dolly admitted reluctantly. Charlie frowned and glanced at the clock on her bedside table. On his way out? But it was only- Oh. Los Angeles was eight hours behind London. She did the maths quickly and realised it was almost midnight where they were. And she was keeping poor Dolly there.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I forgot." She told her, closing her eyes and dropping her head with embarrassment. She would call again later, at a reasonable time. "Well, can you ask him to-"

"Oh, wait, here he is now!" Charlotte's head snapped up again and her eyes flew wide. She pressed the telephone receiver tighter against her ear and desperately shook her head, even if the secretary couldn't see the gesture.

"Wait, no, Dolly, don't-"

"Well, hello there, Charlie." The familiar, kind voice stopped her panicked words. She straightened up her back subconsciously, almost like she was standing to attention.

"Hi, Walt." She said slowly, really starting to regret making the phone call. "I'm sorry, I know you're on your way home."

"Oh, that's okay." Walt replied cheerily, despite the late hour. "I have a minute or two. What did you wanna talk about?" Charlie's mouth opened but no sound came out. She hadn't thought about what she might say to him, she hadn't actually thought she would get that far.

"Well... Well, I, um..." She stammered for a second or so more before Disney sighed, but he chuckled all the same.

"Charlie, I know I said I had a minute, but you don't have to take your time." He was being kind, but she knew he needed to get home. She smiled bashfully and nodded her head.

"I know, sorry, it just..." She glanced at the drawing Dick had made her, still sat on the beside cabinet beside the phone. It brought back some of her strength and she began to smile again. "I was wondering," She said finally. "Does your offer still stand?"


	24. Chapter 24

It was December, but the cold weather had not effected the bustling atmosphere at the Walt Disney Studios. There was a ridiculous amount of work to be done, and even the ash-grey clouds above couldn't deter the artists, directors, musicians, producers and writers inside the company. Work continued as usual, although the building's interior looked considerably different. As always, they'd gone all out for the holidays. With two weeks to go until Christmas, not one inch of the studios had been left undecorated. Tinsel looped down from the ceiling; rainbows of paper chains had been strung across doorways; and perhaps the most spectacular display was the enormous tree that stood grandly in the centre of the lot. Bob and Dick had been distracted by the new addition to the studio and were admiring it before they had to go in to work.

"What do you want for Christmas?" Dick asked his brother, continuing their family tradition. Both of them had agreed from a young age, after realising that they were both terrible at finding presents, that they would directly ask each other what they wanted, saving a lot of time and worry. Bob shrugged, he had never been very good at coming up with ideas for presents for himself either.

"I don't know. New toaster, maybe? Ours is broken." Dick raised an eyebrow at him and he shrugged. "What?" Richard snorted while his brother look offended. "What do you want then?" Bob demanded, certain that he wouldn't be able to come up with anything better. Dick's laughter slowly diminished and he dropped his gaze to the floor. Well, there was only one thing that he wanted, but it was impossible. Dick quirked his lips in a sad little smile then shoved his hands into his coat pockets. He suddenly felt a lot colder than he had done a minute ago.

"Nothing you can buy in a store." He murmured, moving his gaze upwards to the study the ornaments near the top of the tall pine. Bob's smile slowly slipped away and he chewed his lip anxiously as he watched his brother. Charlie was still a sore topic, despite the time that had passed. He didn't like to bring her up, but he'd been meaning to ask him something, though he had never found the right time. Now they were alone and they were on the subject of gifts, Bob decided it was safe and after a moment, he cleared his throat.

"About that..." He began, looking down at his feet as he spoke. For some reason he felt nervous, despite it only being his brother he was talking to. He didn't want to unearth any buried feelings, so he tried to tread carefully as he continued. "Me and Joyce were thinking... We've got some money saved up. If you wanted, we could buy you a plane ticket. You could go see Charlie." Well, he certainly had his attention now. Dick was staring at him, clearly surprised by his offer, but after a moment, he shook his head.

"Bob, no." He said quietly, turning to face him. "That's too much, no." Bob frowned in consternation. He'd expected his brother to turn him down at first out of politeness, but he seemed completely against the idea.

"C'mon, Dick." He attempted to talk him round, but still he wouldn't budge on the matter. Dick shook his head again, returning his gaze to his feet.

"Thank you, but I can't, that's-" Although he was immensely grateful, he couldn't accept his offer. It had taken all his courage to call her up two months ago, but his attempt to contact her had been unsuccessful and he hadn't tried again since. Perhaps she didn't want to talk to him and that was why she hadn't called him back. Another part of him was afraid that Charlotte had moved on, or even worse, that she had found someone new. The thought scared him more than anything, but he didn't want to interrupt her life, which was exactly what would happen if he went to London. "I just can't." He finished lamely, returning his gaze to the tree. Bob sighed, but he knew not to push the matter. It had been a long shot, but for a moment, he'd thought Dick might actually take up the offer. Joyce, his wife, fully supported the idea. In fact, after all that Bob had told her, she wanted Dick and Charlie to be together just as much as her husband and Don. But if Dick was sure, then he would say no more on the subject.

"How about a new lamp?" He suggested after a moment's silence. He sent Dick a sideways glance and saw that he was trying hard not to smile, but then Bob caught his eye and they both snorted.

"A  _lamp_?" Dick repeated, his loud laughter a stark contrast to his demeanour a few seconds ago. "I mean, I know we're bad at this sorta thing, but a  _lamp_?" Bob chuckled and put his arm around Dick's shoulder, guiding him away from the tree and towards work.

"I saw a nice one in a store on the way here. It was bright yellow with a lotta fringe and I thought to myself, yeah, Dick would love that."

"Please stop talking."

They hurried inside, eager to take off their coats and scarves. They both hated the cold and wanted to get into the rehearsal room as soon as possible where it was always nice and warm.

"Hey, Dolly." They both greeted the woman as they passed her desk. The secretary perked up instantly, and for some strange reason, she had a wide smile on her face. It wasn't strange for Dolly to smile at them, but the kind of smile, that was what was odd. She was staring at Richard in particular, her toothy, knowing smile directed at him.

"Hi, Dick. How you feeling?" She asked sweetly, making the brothers stop on their way in. Dick narrowed his eyes at the woman, sending a quick glance to Bob, who shrugged innocently.

"I'm okay." He replied cautiously. The secretary's smile only grew, not seeming to have noticed how apprehensive she'd made them.

"Oh, good." She said brightly, then she turned back to her notebook, which they could both see was full of doodles. "I just thought I'd check on ya, that's all." Again Dick glanced at his brother, who chose then to step in.

"Thanks, Dolly. We'll see you later." Bob said before he pulled his brother away from the desk. Once they were out of earshot, he let out a laugh. "Well, that was weird." He murmured, more to himself than Dick. He stole a glance back at the secretary and was surprised to see her waving him over frantically. He stopped walking to frown at her, and the waving only increased. His curiosity finally got the better of him and he touched his brother's elbow to get his attention. "Hey, are you gonna be okay going in? I'll catch up in a sec." Dick, though he felt a little uneasy after Dolly's odd attitude, didn't question him, and he smiled at Bob.

"Sure, okay. See you in a few." Bob nodded, then walked back the way they'd come. Dick shrugged it off and continued down the corridor to the rehearsal room, blithely whistling a Christmas carol. Back at Dolly's desk, the secretary was practically jumping up and down with excitement. Though she was the only one making any noise, she shushed Bob as he came closer, gesturing for him to keep quiet.

"Dolly? Dolly, what's going on?" He whispered, though he wasn't entirely sure why he had to keep his voice down. The secretary let out another hysterical squeak, but tried to muffle it behind her hand.

"You can't go in the rehearsal room at the moment." She told him, then let out an excited squee, which again, she had to stifle. Bob frowned at the woman, tilting his head to one side quizzically.

"What? Why not?" He asked, starting to feel a little worried. Dolly almost squealed again, but she managed to catch it in time.

"Let's just say there's a surprise in there for your brother." She whispered, then began to hop about again. Bob still looked clueless, but then Don thankfully came bounding around the corner and grabbed him by the shoulders.

"Did you hear?" He asked, then to Dolly, "Did you tell him?" Quick as a whip, he was back to Bob. "Where's Dick?" Bob brushed Don's hands off his shoulders and gawked at the pair of them. He had hoped that Don would have made things clearer, but he seemed just as hyperactive as Dolly.

"What is going on?" He demanded, shaking his head in confusion. Don grinned then looked back to Dolly, who returned the smile, as if the two shared a secret.

"An early Christmas present for your brother." He told Bob, then bit his lip and waited for his words to sink in. They waited patiently for a second, watching the cogs turn in the musician's head. Then suddenly, his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open.

"Oh!" He cried, looking between them to make sure he'd got it right. When they nodded eagerly, Bob let out a joyous cry which was quickly stifled by his friends. They didn't want to alert the man in question, who at that moment, had just reached the rehearsal room.

Dick paused mid-step in the hallway, his merry whistling trailing off. He frowned when he realised that he could hear piano music coming from inside the rehearsal room. No one else had booked it for the day, and usually people would ask permission if they needed it for a few minutes. Although, as he drew closer, he realised that whoever was playing clearly had no idea what they were doing. He could pick out the basic tune, but the chords were all wrong and the timing was jumpy.

"What the..?" He murmured to himself as he reached the door. He didn't look through the glass windows as he pushed it open, which is why he didn't see who was playing until he drew nearer to the piano. When he finally realised who it was, he froze again, but this time, his heart plummeted inside his chest and his jaw went slack.

"Hm, I can never get that second chord right." Charlie grumbled as she tried to pick up the tune again. He didn't move, or rather, he felt as if he couldn't, so he simply watched her as she spoke to him. "Laurie's lesson was a long time ago, but I thought I'd be able to remember some of it." She sighed dolefully. "Clearly I was not born to be a pianist." She finally looked up at him and smiled brightly, as if nothing were amiss. "Do you think you could help me?" She watched him, waiting patiently for him to say something, but the only movement she got was the bag he was carrying falling from his grip with a dull thud. She put it down to shock, so she didn't tease him about it like she very easily could have done. Dick could only stare at the woman. He felt as if none of his muscles were working, they weren't obeying his brain's commands. How could she be there? How could she be sitting not ten feet away from him? Whilst he tried to figure out if she was actually real and not a figment of his imagination, he took a tentative step closer.

"Charlie?" He whispered uncertainly. The artist shrugged, seemingly ignoring his confusion, and slid her long fingers across the piano keys, but they made no sound.

"Well, now that I'm staying here in California for good, perhaps we can resume our lessons? Especially if I'm going to be working here every day." She stood up from the piano and folded her hands in front of her, a nervous smile on her face. "That is, of course, if you'll have me." She added. Still Dick stared, his mouth hanging open, his breaths come short and fast. When he didn't say anything, Charlie began to feel nervous. He looked as if he'd seen a ghost. She tried to summon a smile, but being that close to him after such a long time made her chest feel unbearably tight. "Hello." She murmured. Dick's mouth slowly closed, but his eyes were still wide.

"Hi." He replied, just as softly. He wasn't sure how to process all the information he'd been presented with in such a short amount of time. All he knew what that she was right there in front of him, as beautiful as ever, and she was... She was staying? Charlie swallowed hard, trying to push down the nausea bubbling in her throat.

"I know it's been a while." She said, then she winced at how terribly awkward she sounded. It felt as if they didn't know each other, like they were meeting for the first time all over again. Dick could only nod faintly, still in a state of shock.

"Eight months." He agreed, his eyes never once leaving hers, but Charlotte had to look away. She already felt impossibly guilty about the whole ordeal, but to see him again face to face made it worse somehow. Dick meanwhile had finally gotten his head straight. She was why Dolly had been looking at him strangely. After almost a year, Charlotte was back with him. Her hair was a little shorter now and her dress had been replaced by dark trousers and a shirt to keep her warm in the terrible weather outside, but otherwise, she looked exactly the same as when she'd left. He could feel his shoulders starting to relax, feel the same butterflies he always felt whenever she was close starting to return. But why did she look so solemn?

"Yes." She said quietly, turning her gaze to the floor. Perhaps she'd misjudged it after all. Perhaps he hadn't forgiven her and showing up out of the blue wasn't nearly as romantic as she'd thought. Part of her had worried that he'd moved on with his life, that he'd forgotten about her. She'd tried not to let it get to her, but the niggling feeling at the back of her head wouldn't cease. Now, it appeared her worst fears had been a reality. But then suddenly, without warning, Richard closed the distance between them and pulled her tightly against his chest. Charlotte let out a soft gasp, his quick movements after being so still had taken her by surprise. But after the initial shock, she wrapped her arms around his middle and buried her face in his shoulder. He was holding her so tight, sliding both his hands down from her shoulders to her waist, then stopping at her lower back.

"You're really here." He murmured against her neck, sending shivers over her skin. Charlotte squeezed her eyes tight and tried to keep her head straight. The warmth of him, his smell, his voice, it was completely overwhelming. She didn't think she'd ever get tired of any it. "I've missed you so much." Charlie drew in a shuddering breath and pulled him closer.

"I've missed you too." She told him, and Dick heard how her voice hitched. Tears were starting to well in her eyes but for once, she didn't fight to keep them from falling.

Just outside the rehearsal room, Bob and Don had their faces pressed up against the glass door, watching the pair intently.

"Oh, my God." Don muttered, nudging Bob with his elbow, even though they could both see the same thing. "They're hugging." Bob shrugged and looked round at his friend.

"So what?"

"He's gonna do it." Don nodded determinedly and grinned at the musician. "He's gonna tell her." Bob frowned.

"What?" He cried, only to be quickly shushed by the writer. They couldn't disturb what was going on inside the room. Bob sighed and lowered his voice accordingly. "No, he's not." Don raised an eyebrow, sensing the beginnings of a challenge.

"Oh, yeah?" When Bob matched his smirk he nodded towards the couple who were still embracing in the centre of the room. "I bet you twenty bucks that your brother tells her how he feels." Bob, although he loved and supported his brother, couldn't be sure whether Dick would actually reveal his feelings. The rehearsal room was far too public and she'd only just got back. Dick, though the more outgoing of the two of them, wasn't one for such grand displays.

"You're on." He muttered, eagerly accepting the wager. They briefly shook hands before turning their attentions back to Dick and Charlotte. They'd finally pulled apart, but Richard's arms were still around her waist and Charlotte had her hands pressed against his chest.

"So what happened?" Dick asked, his crooked smile back in place now that the tension had cleared. "I thought you had all this stuff to figure out. What about your house?" Charlie was grinning like an idiot but she didn't care. She didn't think she'd ever been so happy, or so close to her musician.

"Well, Walt bought it." She told him, giving a short laugh as if she could hardly believe it herself. "So now I'm saving money that would've been spent on rent and I'm slowly paying him back." They had worked out the deal two months ago, when she had telephoned the company at almost midnight. Disney had proposed that her first wages would go towards working off the debt she owed him. She had hardly believed he would be so generous, but he'd heard the desperation in her voice and knew she would give anything to come back to L.A.

Charlotte explained their deal to Richard, and when she was finished, she sighed and shook her head. "I'm so sorry, Dick." She murmured, her hands sliding up his chest to rest on his shoulders in a way he found very distracting. She took a step back and Dick reluctantly removed his arms from around her waist. She was still close, but she was about to tell him something important, and that meant she needed to look him in the eye. "I never wanted to leave. It's just..." She sighed again and tried to think of a way to explain herself. "Well, I tried to be an adult about it. I tried to be pragmatic. But then I saw your picture in the newspaper and I... I realised how stupid I was being." She grinned then and threw her hands in the air. "And I thought, to hell with pragmatism!" Dick chuckled at her words and the sound brought her great comfort. He could sense she was nervous from the way she chewed on her bottom lip, as if she wasn't sure whether to say what was really on her mind. But then she began to smile again, her confidence growing, and he found his chest tightening in that familiar way, a sensation only ever caused by her. "You see, it wasn't until I left that I realised quite how much you mean to me." She told him softly.

Dick's smile began to disappear as he listened, his stomach suddenly twisting into knots. She licked her lips, tilting her head slightly to the side, her hazel eyes locked on his. "The problem is, Richard Sherman... I've fallen in love with you." She whispered, and to him, it felt like all the air had suddenly left the room. She was trying to suppress a smile, whether because she was glad that she'd finally told him, or because she found his shocked expression amusing, he couldn't say. But that didn't matter. Nothing mattered now apart from the woman in front of him. She shook her head slightly, and he watched her lips as she said once more, "I love you."

Before she could say another word, Richard's hands were on either side of her face and his lips were pressed against hers. Charlie was surprised to say the least but she certainly wasn't complaining. He pulled away for a fraction of a second to catch his breath before going back for more, his lips moving against hers in a desperate and long overdue kiss. Charlie finally regained control of her body and gripped the front of his shirt, pulling him even closer against her until she could hardly breathe. After a moment, Richard pulled away again, much to her annoyance, but as he did so, he dragged his teeth over her bottom lip, so she didn't complain. He pressed his forehead against hers as they both tried to catch their breaths. Charlie had her eyes closed, but she heard him give a soft chuckle.

"I love you too." He breathed, then he dipped his head and kissed her again. Charlie's head was spinning, she couldn't believe it was finally happening. How long had she wanted to kiss him? It felt like years had passed since they'd last seen each other, and now she had everything that she'd ever wanted. She slid her hands up his chest and into his hair, grazing his skin with her nails. "God, I love you." He murmured against her lips, making her laugh. "I love you." He pulled her closer, his hands settling on her hips before moving up her sides to tangle in her hair. Charlie let out an appreciative moan and had just been reaching for his shirt buttons when they heard a surprised exclamation from across the room.

"Oh! Sorry!" They pulled apart and Dick let out an annoyed groan. He couldn't count how many times they had been interrupted in the time that they'd known each other, and if it happened one more time, there would be trouble. Though her mind was still reeling from the kiss, Charlie had the more level head of the two of them, and turned to Dolly with a smile. The secretary was standing in the doorway, not looking nearly as apologetic as she should. Behind her, she could see Don and Bob's faces pressed up against the glass, also smiling wickedly. "Hi, Charlie." The secretary gave a little wave, although her devious smile negated any façade of innocence.

"Hi, Dolly." Charlie replied kindly, whilst Richard rested his head on her shoulder with a deep sigh. They were still entangled, but Dolly saw no reason to be embarrassed and she conveyed her message professionally.

"Mac's here." She continued, paying no attention to the somewhat compromising position they were in. "They're ready for you upstairs." Charlie nodded and smiled gratefully at the secretary.

"Thank you, Dolly. I'll just be a minute." The woman wriggled her eyebrows then gave another wave and left the room.

Charlotte had arrived back in Los Angeles the day before, and had spent the whole night tossing and turning in bed. She hadn't been able to sleep, she'd been so excited. Not only would she be seeing the love of her life again after eight months, but she would have a new job, a wonderful job, where she was respected and valued and she loved what she was doing. Now Mac was there to take her upstairs and show her the ropes. She already knew a little about how it all worked in the Animation Department from her various trips up there, but McLaren would be teaching her a whole new profession from scratch. She was incredibly excited, but she also didn't know what she'd done to deserve such an outstanding opportunity. She had the job and she had Richard, who at that moment, still had his face buried in the crook of her neck.

"Your brother's at the door." She murmured by his ear, making Dick sigh again.

"I don't care." He muttered, making her laugh, then he finally raised his head to look her in the eye. "One day," He told her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I'm going to be able to kiss you without being interrupted." Charlie, who still couldn't believe that she was actually in his arms, gave him a wide smile.

"Have dinner with me." She murmured. "Tonight after work." As she spoke, she trailed her fingertips up his chest then rested her hand against his cheek. Well, it'd be a cold day in hell before he ever said no to her, but the way she was looking at him paired with the patterns she was tracing over his heart with her other hand had his head spinning.

"You are magnificent." He breathed. He didn't care that Mac was waiting, or that their friends were probably still watching, all that mattered was that Charlie was back, and she loved him, and she was looking at him like he was her moon and stars.

"Is that a yes?" She murmured, her grin now stretching from ear to ear. Dick shook his head.

"Oh, God, yes." He muttered before kissing her again, as passionately and as ardently as he had wanted to do since they'd met. All too soon, Charlotte had to take a step back, otherwise Mac would come in after her and the teasing would never end.

"Duty calls." She said, then saluted him half-heartedly. Dick chuckled and watched her leave, a strange, indecipherable smile on his face. She noted with some degree of pride that he looked a little hot under the collar and considerably more ruffled than when he'd walked into the room. Out in the hallway, just as Dolly had said, Mac was waiting for her with open arms.

"Duchess! It's good to see ya!" He cried as she came closer. For once, Charlie put up with his boisterous greeting and accepted the huge hug he offered her. "C'mere!" He swept her up into his arms and squeezed her tight. Charlotte grunted as her back clicked in about ten different places.

"McLaren!" She gasped out as her feet left the floor. "It's so lovely to see you again!" He eventually set her back down and rested his hands on her shoulders instead.

"You ready to get to work?" He asked, grinning from ear to ear. Charlie, after she got her breath back, nodded enthusiastically and returned his smile.

"Let's go." She agreed, letting him guide her down the corridor and across the studio lot.

When Don and Bob finally entered the rehearsal room, they were happy to find their friend still smiling dreamily. Though he did attempt to control his love-struck expression as they drew closer, there was no concealing the huge grin inspired by Charlie's return. Despite his walking stick, Bob reached for his younger brother and got him in a headlock, ruffling his hair proudly. Don raised his eyebrows at him once his brother had released him.

"A good surprise?" He asked, and he too found it hard to suppress his smile. Dick clapped his hand down on his brother's shoulder, looking between his friends with disbelief.

"Merry Christmas." He said finally, making the others laugh. They congratulated him once more before getting back to work. They still had a movie to make after all. Through, Don did take the opportunity to gesture to Dick's face before he sat down in one of their armchairs.

"You've got lipstick on your face." He told him as an afterthought, making Dick jump towards the nearest reflective surface to check his face whilst the room erupted with laughter.

* * *

That evening, after she'd been shown around the Animation Department and her education in the new discipline had begun, Charlie walked across the lot to find Dick already waiting for her in the reception. He was just putting on his coat, but he stopped when he saw her. Immediately, his boyish, charming grin slid into place which she found herself returning without even thinking about it.

"Hi." He said quietly, pulling his coat on the rest of the way. Charlotte crossed the room, and reached up to pull his lapels into place.

"Hi." She murmured in reply, her eyes flicking up to meet his. Dick's breathing stopped, it really wasn't fair of her to look at him like that. He bent his head, suddenly overcome with a need to kiss her and kiss her until the stars went out, but just as Charlie's eyes closed, they hard a sharp cough. With a deep sigh, Dick look around to see Dolly sitting at her desk, watching them with a smirk. Charlie chuckled and rested her forehead against his shoulder for a moment before taking his hand. "Shall we go?" She whispered, recapturing Dick's attention. He nodded furiously.

"Please." He mumbled, practically pulling her out of the door whilst she giggled.

Neither of them had ever been ones for fancy dinners or fine wines, so Dick took her to a nearby diner. Charlie had visited a restaurant such as this only once, when she'd gone out with a few of her friends from school. Her mother, of course, had never learned of this, her distrust of everything foreign stretching to food as well. So her dinner with Richard was exciting for an all manner of reasons. Not only was the whole experience relatively new, but she was sitting across from the love of her life, and he was smiling at her in that gorgeous way of his. Halfway through her burger, another new and exciting experience, she happened to look up to find him watching her. With her mouth full of food, she gave him a cheeky half-smile and asked,

"You alright?" For once, Dick didn't seem embarrassed about having been caught staring, a regular occurrence. Instead, he smiled back at her, his dark, brown eyes shining.

"I've never been this happy." He replied softly, taking her completely by surprise. She put down her burger and reached across the table to take his hand.

"Neither have I." She told him quietly. They said nothing for a moment, just gazing at each other and wondering what they'd each done to deserve the other.

By the time they'd finished eating, it was only around nine o'clock, so Dick proposed that they walk around town and talk. He'd worried at first that she would think his suggestion was awfully dull, but to his surprise, Charlie loved the idea, and she let him lead the way to the nearest park. It was dark out and getting cold, but neither of them cared. They walked with their arms interlocked, every so often Charlie would rest her head on his shoulder, or Dick would place a kiss at her temple. The park glowed from the lamplight but it was practically empty, and although it may not have seemed like the ideal setting for a date, they were both completely happy. Dick had wanted to do exactly this for months, just talking and laughing without fear of interruption. A cold wind blew, making Charlotte pull her coat closer to her body. She was faring far better than Dick, for a winter in California was nothing compared to one back home. They had reached the edge of the park when Dick noticed something off in the distance.

"Hey, Charles." He murmured, making her look around. "Take a look at that." She followed his gaze and saw that he was pointing at a hill, their hill, off in the distance. Charlotte let out a disbelieving laugh.

"I never thought I'd see it again." She said honestly, her voice edged with sadness. Dick picked up on the heaviness of her tone and pulled her closer.

"I missed you so much, gorgeous." He whispered, making Charlotte's cheeks start to heat up.

"I thought about you every day." She told him, shaking her head slightly. She still couldn't believe that it had taken her so long to get her act together and come back. They would certainly have to make up for all that wasted time. She voiced her thoughts to him, and to her delight, it made that cheeky smile reappear.

"Well, that shouldn't be a problem." He murmured, before tilting his head and capturing her lips once again. Charlie didn't think she'd ever get over the fire that billowed in her chest whenever they kissed, or how everything about him made her head spin with delight. Neither of them could say how long they stayed there under the light of a streetlamp, time seemed to stand still whenever they kissed. The cold kept closing in, but there was plenty of heat between them, and they pulled closer and closer together until they could no longer feel the effects of the weather. Eventually, Charlie pulled back and with a shuddering laugh, she said,

"Oh, dear." She sent him a sly smirk, her fingers still wrapped around the material of his coat. "And there was me thinking that you weren't supposed to kiss on the first date." Dick hummed in thought as he slid his hands down from the small of her back to rest on her hips.

"Well," He mused, raising his eyebrows meaningfully. "If you count our little excursion to that hill as our first date... Which I do." He added, his charming smile coming out in full force so that her knees felt weak. But she always had the upper hand in situations such as this, and she was determined to defend her title.

"I thought you might." She commented, making Dick laugh, upsetting the still atmosphere of the empty park.

"And then our day at Disneyland was our second..." He shrugged his shoulders carelessly, but his eyes were sharp and focused. "This is technically our  _third_  date." It was a risky move and he knew it. Charlie could react to his words in two very different ways. He didn't know which one was more nerve-racking. He waited with baited breath for her reply, knowing that she would have understood his insinuation perfectly. To his great delight, Charlotte's sweet smile slipped into a wolfish, captivating grin.

"Oh, yes." She realised, finding she liked this side of Richard very much indeed. "I suppose you're right." Then she raised her eyebrows and dropped her smile. "Go on, then." She prompted. Dick frowned at her, not entirely sure what she meant.

"What?"

"Ask me back to yours." She elucidated for him, that enchanting smile sparking up again. Dick couldn't believe that his teasing had actually worked and couldn't help but feel a little proud of himself. He let out a laugh and hoped he didn't sound as nervous as he suddenly felt.

"Give me a chance, doll." He murmured and Charlie hummed deliciously. She met his gaze with determination in her eyes and jutted her chin.

"I've waited long enough, Mr. Sherman." She said shortly, adopting a very business-like tone that he couldn't help but find extremely attractive. She took a step away from him and out of his arms, but she held out her hand for him to take. "Now, are you going to offer me a drink back at your house, or not?" They both laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation, but he took her hand and guided her through the city back to his home. He hadn't realised that she'd never seen it before, he'd always intended to invite her round, though it had always seemed so forward. Now it appeared he need not have worried. They stood outside of his little house, their hands still entwined, waiting for Charlie to say something.

"Wow." She breathed. He watched as her eyes darted all over the front of the house. "It's gorgeous." She said, and he supposed she was right. It was only a small, square house, nothing fancy, but it had a little garden out the front with twisting vines that clambered up the brick walls. The windows all had little boxes hanging from them which usually seated flowers, but the weather had long since eradicated them. It wasn't much, but it was home, and he loved it dearly.

"It belonged to my parents." He told her quietly, earning her attention. "Bob moved out after he got married. His place isn't far from here." He gestured vaguely over his shoulder to the West then smiled at her brightly. "Come on, I'll show you around." He squeezed her hand and she giggled as he led her up the pathway to the yellow door and inside.

The house's interior was much like her own back in London, a little cluttered, but in that charming way that proper homes always are. He showed her all over the downstairs, but they didn't go as far as the second floor, he didn't want to seem presumptuous. Dick finished the short tour in the living room towards the back of the house; a warm, cosy room with wooden floors and squashy sofas and deep red walls. Charlotte stood in the centre of the room as Dick took her coat and scarf from her.

"It's simply gorgeous." She said again, her gaze traveling all around the room. The house smelled of him, of home. On the mantelpiece there was an all manner of queer objects, from picture frames to little boxes. The shelves were lined with books her fingers itched to pull out and read. What caught her eye the most was a brightly coloured object she could see poking out from behind the arm of the sofa. She edged carefully forward as Dick watched and was surprised to find a kite of all things, leaning up against the side of the settee. She gingerly picked it up, turning the precious thing over in her hands.

"Is this the..." She didn't finish her sentence, she didn't need to. Dick nodded and joined her in the centre of the room.

"Mm hm." He hummed, trying not to look at the kite. He'd kept it for sentimental reasons, a reminder of his times working on the film and being with her, but it always made him sad to look at. Charlotte studied the kite for a moment before meeting his gaze. She carefully set it on the sofa and rested her hands on either of his shoulders.

"I've missed you so much." She told him softly, her voice catching slightly despite her determination to stay strong. She pulled him close in a tight hug, her arms falling to wrap around his middle, her head resting on his shoulder. "You've know idea how happy I am." Dick chuckled and she could feel it rumble in his chest.

"Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea." He replied, just as softly. Charlotte let out a small laugh, then raised her head again.

"Dick?"

"Hm?"

"Please don't think me impertinent..."

"How could I ever think such a thing?" She grinned and looked away for a second, finding she was far too easily charmed by him for her own good.

"I'd like to ask you something." She continued, once she's gotten her red face under control. "When did you first realise that you... That you held certain affections for me?" Dick raised his eyebrows, his hands sliding down to settle on her waist.

"You mean, when did I first fall in love with you?" He replied, making Charlotte smile. He bit him lip as he thought, his gaze drifting towards the ceiling. "Well, that's a difficult question, sweetheart." He said honestly. "Because I had a crush on you before I actually did any falling." Charlotte's curiosity had well and truly gotten the better of her and she tilted her head to one side to match her question.

"And when did that begin?" Dick hummed again, casting his mind back over the time that they'd known each other. It was difficult to pinpoint exactly when he'd fallen for her, but he could very easily tell Charlie when his infatuation had begun.

"Well, I think we both know that I had a crush on ya from the moment I met ya." He said, somewhat sheepishly. Charlie tried to stop herself from smiling, but she couldn't help it.

"I had my suspicions." She admitted. He'd actually been very obvious, but she didn't want to embarrass him. Not that it was a bad thing, his enthusiasm and kindness was what had first attracted her to him. He saw her smiling and bent his head out of embarrassment.

"Yeah, well, can ya blame me?" He went on, though his face was a little redder than before. "You were so beautiful and friendly. And you were so funny, my kinda girl. But I think the moment I fell in love with you was..." He twisted his mouth as he thought, trying to make sure he had it right. "When we were dancing in the rehearsal room." He finished, nodding his head so she knew that he was certain. Charlotte was pleasantly surprised. It had been way back then? She couldn't believe that it had been so long and he'd never said a word. Dick shook his head then touched his forehead against hers. "Boy, you had this look on your face that made me melt, and it was all for me." He whispered, sending her heart into a stupor. She swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly feeling uncomfortably dry. "I'd never seen a look on someone's face like that before." He continued. "And then two days later, lucky me, I got to kiss ya." He pulled back and winked at her, making her laugh again. "What about you?" Charlotte chewed on her bottom lip for a moment as she thought, preoccupying Dick's attention in the meantime.

"Well, I realised that I fancied you when we'd just shown Mrs. Travers mine and Mac's work, and you were so cross, you're jaw was..." She shook her head, suddenly feeling quite flustered at the memory. "I could hardly control myself." Dick looked surprised, then smug. His smirk really wasn't helping her already racing heart.

"I didn't realise." He murmured and Charlotte quirked her eyebrows.

"Well, I was very good at hiding it." She had known from the beginning that her time at the Walt Disney Studios would be fleeting. She hadn't expected to make such good friends so quickly, or to develop feelings for one of her colleagues. "But love, now, that's tricky." She readjusted her position so that her elbows rested on his shoulders, her hands clasped behind him. She shook her head slightly, a sad smile on her red lips. "I think I've been in love with for the longest time, but I only realised it when we were separated. When I saw your photograph, I realised how ridiculous I'd been. And I realised that I wanted to be with you, no matter what. I knew that I loved you unconditionally." At some point in the middle of her confession, they'd drawn closer together, so now her gaze had unabashedly dropped to his lips. Meanwhile, Dick was studying her eyes. He let out a soft laugh, making Charlie look up at him.

"There's that look again." He told her. He couldn't explain it, but every so often, probably without knowing it, Charlie's gaze would soften as she retreated back into her thoughts and her bright hazel eyes were all he could think about. Charlie's smile quirked up into a smirk as she asked,

"Does it still make you melt?" Dick exhaled sharply, her words were a bit of an understatement.

"Oh, yeah." He murmured. Her heart quickened as he leaned closer, his voice low and deep. "And it makes me wanna do this." He swiftly pressed his lips against hers, much harder and more desperate than before. It only took Charlie a split second to get her mind in gear before she was kissing him back, pulling at his bottom lip with her teeth, earning her a groan. With a delighted laugh, she pulled him by his lapels until her back hit the wall and she could go no further. Making good use of the new position, Dick pinned her up against the wall, sliding his arms around her back and pulling her closer. He broke away, but only to slowly press kisses down her jaw and neck. Charlotte sighed sweetly and let her head fall back against the wall. Oh, she'd wanted this for a long time. She felt his hands reach for the button at the nape of her neck then he was lifting up her shirt. Charlotte laughed softly, feeling so happy she thought she might burst. Dick was smiling too, clearly feeling as thrilled as she did. She helped him lift her shirt up over her head then bent forward to bite and suck at the hollow of his neck, earning her an outstanding groan.

His shirt came next and Charlie sent it soaring far across the room.  _("Nice arm." "Thanks."_ ) She was trying to get rid of all clothing as expeditiously as possible, but somewhere down the line, Dick seemed to be having trouble with her underwear. She could feel his fingers twisting at the clasp behind her back and after a moment, it seemed to have him distracted. His lips left hers as he tried to focus all his attention on the troublesome undergarment. After a few moments, Charlotte had to suppress a smile, but Dick saw it anyway. He groaned and bent his head slightly.

"This is embarrassing." He mumbled, giving her that crooked smile she'd loved for so long. Charlotte let him struggle for a second more before dipping her head and distracting him with a kiss. She smiled against his lips when she felt his fingers stop, then pulled back again. She looked him in the eye, and with her red lips curling, she asked,

"Do you want to give it another go, or shall I?" Dick rested his head in the crook of her neck as they both laughed, then he shook his head.

"I've got it." He assured her. He twirled one finger, his face set in concentration. "Just spin around a sec, 'kay?" Charlie chuckled again but did as he asked. With this new vantage point, Dick easily unhooked the clasp that had caused him so much trouble, and Charlie, still giggling, turned around to face him again. They both stood with their arms straight down at their sides, just grinning at each other like idiots.

"Expertly done, Richard." Charlotte praised, only teasing him a little. Dick chose to ignore her jibe and nodded his head once.

"Why, thank you, Charlotte." He replied, then he dove for her again, pulling her as close to his body as possible. Obstacle avoided, Charlie pushed them away from the wall, hoping to guide him in the direction of the stairs, but as she did so, her hip bumped into something heavy. That something then proceeded to make a very loud noise that made them both jump.

"Oh!" Charlotte pulled away from Richard to see what she'd knocked into and sighed exasperatedly when she saw it was her old foe. "Oh, that bloody record player." She grumbled, although her heart was still thudding from the shock. She recognised the music playing, 'In the Still of the Night' by the Five Satins, a song she loved very much, but right at that moment, anything that got in the way of where her night was headed was definitely her enemy. Dick nodded towards the record player, his arms still around her waist.

"Shall I..?" He began, but Charlotte shook her head.

"No, leave it." She muttered, but Dick smiled at her cheekily.

"It's not exactly mood music." He shot back. Charlotte's hazel eyes were bright and her usually perfectly kept hair was a mess from where his fingers had run through it. She had no idea where her clothes were and she was just thankful that all the curtains were drawn. She looked beautiful and Dick couldn't believe how lucky he was, especially after her next determined words.

"Every second not spent kissing you is a second wasted, Richard. Now, where is your bedroom?"


	25. Chapter 25

It occurred to Dick, as he awoke the next morning, that he hadn't slept so well in months. As he valiantly resisted waking up, he took note of how refreshed he felt beneath his bleariness. He hadn't closed the curtains of his bedroom window last night, he'd been a little distracted, and so sunlight now engulfed the room, making it even more difficult to keep his eyes open. He didn't want to go to work, he didn't want to get up, he didn't even want to move. He was perfectly happy right where he was. But then Dick heard a soft sigh beside him and that was all he needed to fully wake up.

He turned his head to the right and saw her, his beautiful best friend. Her face was partially hidden behind the pillow, but he could still see the curve of her lips, her eyelashes dark against her pale skin. He found himself smiling just from looking at her and he turned onto his side to see her better. Regrettably, the movement brought Charlie out of her own sleep and her face scrunched up adorably as she began to wake up. Dick chuckled at the annoyed look on her face as she came to terms with consciousness and waited for her to open her eyes. When she finally cracked open one eyelid, he gave her a lopsided smile and reached across, tucking her unruly hair behind her ear.

"Good morning." He murmured. Charlotte smiled sleepily and rubbed a hand over her eyes.

"Good morning." She replied, just as softly. He liked the way she looked in the morning, so peaceful and soft, whereas during the day she was usually so expressive and excited. They stayed there, just smiling stupidly at each other before Charlotte eventually turned her head, burying her face into her pillow as she let out a laugh. Dick grinned, finding her embarrassment simply adorable. He couldn't believe how lucky he was, waking up next to the woman he loved. He wrapped a hand around her waist, drawing her closer and kissed her neck, trying to get her to show her face again. Charlie did turn back to him, her cheeks a little pink, but her smile was still in place. It was a strange feeling to wake up next to someone, it felt even stranger waking up next to Richard. She'd often thought about what it might be like, but her return to London had dashed any and all plans of a life with him. Now she was there to stay and nothing could make her leave his side ever again. Dick seemed to be thinking along the same lines, as he said,

"I could get used to this." He was still smiling winsomely. His hand moved over her body, curling her hair around his fingers, smoothing over her waist, then down her thigh. It was all very distracting and she almost missed his question. "How do you feel?" Charlie sighed deeply whilst she tried to hide the extent of his effect on her.

"Amazing." She replied. "I feel absolutely amazing. Last night was wonderful."

"Why, thank you." He grinned wickedly and Charlotte scoffed. She sat up, grabbed her pillow and before he could say another word, she was thwacking him with it. Dick tried to protest but he was laughing too hard, they both were. "Well, I suppose it was a joint effort." He managed to gasp out in-between beatings, which only made Charlie laugh harder, but it did put an end to her attack. She flopped back down onto the bed, both of them laughing breathlessly. Dick looked at her and shook his head. He didn't know what he'd done to deserve such happiness. Charlie, with her messy hair and her wide smile and her loud laugh, she was so wonderful and he was so lucky. "You..." He began, and Charlie met his gaze, still giggling. He exhaled sharply and shook his head again. "You look beautiful." Charlie's smile softened and she turned onto her side, reaching across to tap the end of his nose.

"So do you." She replied, which he thought was strange, as her comical gesture didn't really match the sincerity of her tone. He also didn't think he was particularly beautiful, but she was usually right, so he didn't question her on it. Much too soon for his liking, Charlie turned onto her back and rubbed her tired eyes. "What time is it, do you know?" She asked after looking around the room and not finding a clock. "I need to run to my hotel to change before work." Dick really didn't want to get up, which his low grunt indicated as he reached for his bedside cabinet.

"What time will you leave?" He asked her as he dug around in his drawer for his alarm clock. He was notoriously bad at getting out of bed, so he liked to keep it there so that he had to get up properly to turn off the irritating bell.

"Well, to get to work for nine, I should probably have left by about eight-ish." She mumbled, he could hear her calculating the journey in her voice. He finally located his alarm clock and blinked a few times to focus. It took him a moment to work out the time in his half-awake state, but once he had it, he suddenly felt a lot more alert.

"Charlie?"

"Hm?" Dick had been having a very good morning, he almost didn't want to say his next words. He turned back to Charlie, who looked so peaceful and contented, he felt guilty about answering her question.

"It's quarter to nine." He told her. The affect was instantaneous. Charlie sat bolt upright in bed, the warm covers falling off her.

"What?" She gawked at him and he could only smile sheepishly back. With an incensed cry, Charlotte tore the covers off her lap and jumped out of bed. "Oh, bugger!" She hastily began to gather her things which were scattered across the room. She was panicking, her mind whirring, trying to figure out a new route that would get her to the hotel and then work in less than ten minutes. Dick, however, was considerably less worried, partly because he didn't have to worry about crossing town in record time, but also because the majority of his attention was on Charlotte, who was interesting for two reasons. The first was that she was muttering to herself, and perhaps him, about how stressed she was, and all the things she had to do and how little time she had to do them in. This was very funny and very cute. The second reason why she was so interesting was that she was completely naked, and if he was honest, there was nothing he would ever rather look at. Unfortunately, she noticed how distracted he was and huffed at the dreamy look in his eyes and the smirk on his lips. "Dick, pay attention." She scolded him but his expression didn't change. His smile only grew, which she couldn't help but return, much her annoyance. She threw her trousers at him and he finally began to move.

"Right, sorry." He muttered, but he didn't look the least bit apologetic. He chucked her trousers back to her and she caught them with one hand whilst trying to get her underwear down from where they were hooked over the door.

If anyone had asked her, Charlotte would have insisted that the morning after the first night spent with her boyfriend had to be peaceful and stress-free. This was not how she would describe that morning with Dick, but she wasn't complaining. It felt awfully domestic, that was what was so lovely. It was a hectic morning, they were both late, and they rushed about the house trying to get ready. Charlotte collected the rest of her clothes from the living room while Dick tried to locate a clean shirt of his own, all of which had mysteriously gone missing. They ducked in and out of the bathroom, where Dick luckily had a spare toothbrush. They crossed to and fro out of bedrooms and kitchen cupboards, almost like they'd choreographed it. They were ready in less than ten minutes, something to be proud of, pausing only to straighten each other's clothes and press kisses to cheeks.

It felt strange being in a taxi not driven by Jimmy, but Charlie quickly got over it. Although, she couldn't help but think his particular brand of driving would get them to work in no time at all. They arrived at the studios at nine on the dot, something they hadn't thought they would manage. They stumbled out of the cab and half-heartedly tried to make it look like they hadn't spent the night together, but it was fairly obvious. They stopped by the doors to the main building where they would eventually part ways, but before then, Dick wrapped his arms around Charlie's waist and pulled her against him.

"That was fun." He said, hoping that his mischievous grin would get him out of trouble. Fortunately, it seemed to do the trick and Charlotte merely shook her head.

"You're absolutely mad." She murmured as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Never again." She gave him a fleeting kiss, but he pressed his lips back to hers as soon as she pulled away. Charlie thought he was being awfully cheeky, but she didn't question it, simply because he was so lovely and she did love to kiss him. But she had a job to do, and as she glanced at her watch over his shoulder she knew she had to move. Dick looked disappointed, so she said, "I've got to go." She tried to turn away, but Dick didn't let go of her waist.

"I don't care." He muttered before he kissed her again. He felt her smile against his lips and knew that she didn't mind being late one bit. Now that he had her, he was reluctant to let her go. Judging by the way she clutched at the front of his shirt, Dick decided that the feeling was mutual. However, just as they thought their luck was beginning to turn, Charlie heard a familiar voice behind her.

"Hey, guys- Oh." Charlotte sighed, bowed her head, and finally damned the owner of the friendly greeting, all before turning her head to acknowledge him.

"Good morning, Don." She replied sweetly. The writer watched as they untangled themselves, finding it hard not to laugh.

"Morning." Don answered. He had the biggest, smuggest grin on his face, it made the pair feel even more embarrassed. A newspaper was tucked under one of his arms, and in the other hand he held a briefcase. Charlie momentarily wondered what he could be carrying in his case considering his line of work, or rather, the fact that she never really saw Don do any work, unless you counted teasing her and Dick. At this, she suddenly remembered the position they had been found in and brought her head back into the present. Still a little pink in the cheeks, Charlie turned her head to murmur in Dick's ear.

"I'll see you later." She said, then kissed his cheek briefly before walking away to the Animation block. Dick watched her go with a dreamy expression on his face before he realised that Don was still there and still smiling at him. He sighed and sent him a warning glare.

"Shut up." He told him, then turned and walked up the couple of steps to the main building. He heard Don's footsteps behind him on the hard floor as they passed through reception.

"I haven't said anything." Don protested, but even though he couldn't see him, Dick could hear the smirk in his tone. They both waved to Dolly as they passed her, but kept up their fast pace and didn't stop on their way to the rehearsal room. Dick had hoped to find solace in their beloved music room, but instead, he found his brother who was also smiling eagerly. He bounded over as soon as the door opened, as much as he could on his injured leg. They had him cornered. Dick looked between his friends and struggled to hold back a sigh.

"So..?" Bob asked slowly, his eyebrows raised practically to his hairline. Not wanting to kiss and tell, Dick ignored the clear looks of curiosity on their faces and went over to the piano.

"Can I help you?" He asked innocently. Don and Bob exchanged frustrated glances. They'd hoped to maintain a certain level of calm, they didn't want Dick to know just how excited they were about him and Charlie finally getting together. In light of this, they'd both promised to keep their composures, but Don's curiosity had quickly gotten the better of him.

"God, just tell us, man!" He suddenly burst out, much to Bob's dismay and Dick's surprise. The eldest Sherman shot him a look, then turned back to his brother.

"How did it go?" He asked, though his voice was a lot calmer. Now that Don had negated their peaceful approach, he thought he might as well ask outright. Dick chewed his lip in thought as he studied his friends. He wasn't sure if he should tell them. They were his closest companions, but he didn't want to reveal all the ins and outs of his relationship with Charlie, especially as it was only in its early stages. So instead of giving them all the details, he simply said,

"Well,  _nothing_  happened." He raised his eyebrows at the pair of them, hoping that they would get the message. Their blank faces were a little discouraging.

"Oh." Don said after a second or so of stunned silence. His expectant look had drifted into confusion, but Dick was determined not to say anything more. They would have to reach it by themselves. Then, all of a sudden, a light flashed in Don's eyes. "Oh?" He was clearly thinking hard, trying to figure out why his friend's words were so familiar whilst Bob still looked lost. Then finally, Don recognised his own code. "Oh!" He cried, clapping his hands together in triumph. Bob looked even more bewildered now.

"What?" He asked the writer, also wrapping a hand around his elbow to stop him from getting too excited. Don looked to Dick for confirmation, which he got in the form of a slight nod, then grinned at his friend.

" _Nothing_  happened." He repeated, hoping that the musician would catch on quick. Bob frowned and shook his head slightly.

"Nothing happened?" He repeated, still not understanding what he meant. Don raised his eyebrows meaningfully, and Bob suddenly remembered their conversation from many months ago.

_"Did you hear about Dick and Charlie?"_

_"Hear about what?"_

_"Nothing happened."_

_"What?"_

_"Nothing happened."_

_"I don't..." Bob trailed off as he combined Don's cryptic words with the suggestive look he was giving him. "Oh! Really?"_

Bob's eyebrows shot up and he turned to his brother again.

" _Nothing_  happened?" He checked, finally beginning to understand Don's invented code words. Dick sighed and nodded again.

" _Nothing_  happened." He confirmed, taking a seat at the piano. Bob and Don both threw their hands in the air and let out celebratory cheers, much to Dick's embarrassment.

" _Nothing_  happened!" They both chorused, then ran to hug their friend and congratulate him. Dick shook his head despairingly and raised his eyes to the ceiling, but secretly, it was nice to know how much his friends cared about him and Charlotte.

* * *

Across the studio lot, a not so different conversation was about to occur. Though she hadn't visited the Animation Department for some time, Charlotte was pleased to find it hadn't changed a bit, with one exception. Yesterday, on her first official day in the department, she spoke with many artists who she'd met before, but Mac was excited to introduce her to someone, who, like Charlie, was new to the job.

Sarahjane Gregg was sunny and kind and not at all what Charlotte had expected. She was at first completely envious of the woman, what with her sky blue eyes and long, blonde hair. She was almost completely all leg, and Charlotte assumed she was what people meant when they spoke of a typical Southern Belle. She also happened to be wonderfully sweet and funny, so although Charlie's self-esteem had initially taken quite a hit, her worries were soon soothed by the glorious girl. She had a strange way of talking, the likes of which Charlie had never heard before. When she'd bounced up to her and introduced herself the day before, Sarahjane had revealed that she was from Nashville, Tennessee. Charlotte had never met anyone from the South before, and Sarahjane had never met anyone from England, so they had a lot to talk about on her first day. They quickly became firm friends and worked next to each other whenever possible. As soon as she walked into the room, that bright, sunny voice was there to meet her.

"Good morning!" Sarahjane called from across the small room. Charlotte smiled back, placing her things down so that she could take off her heavy coat. It was so refreshing to work in a place where people were pleased to see her, she still wasn't completely used to the friendly atmosphere at the Disney studios.

"Morning!" She replied, just as cheerily. Sarahjane looked up from her drawing, something she was working on for the Jolly Holiday sequence, to see her new friend beaming away as she hung up her coat. It wasn't strange for her to be happy, but it was unusual for first thing on a Tuesday morning when it was freezing outside.

"Ooo, look at you smilin' away." She teased. Despite her shyness, Charlotte couldn't wipe the grin from her face. Sarahjane raised her eyebrows at her as she came closer. "Did you have a pleasant evenin'?"

"Yes, I did." Charlie tried to busy herself by adjusting her chair, but Sarahjane saw that she was biting her lip, her cheeks a little pink. When she finally sat, she was one seat down from her on the other side of the workbench. Charlie thought that would be the end of it and she wouldn't have to answer anymore leading questions, but a quick glance at her friend scuppered any sense of security. Sarahjane was smirking at her in an infuriatingly knowing way. She had one eyebrow raised, her bright blue eyes shining. Charlotte's shoulders slumped and she gave her a look. "What?" She said innocently. The smug look only increased. Charlotte sighed and asked again, " _What_?" Sarahjane shrugged and turned back to her work.

"I know that look." She said slowly, making Charlotte scoff. She thought perhaps if she made herself busy then Sarahjane would end it there, but no such luck. Her new friend was still looking down at her work, yes, but after a beat, Charlie heard her mutter, "I knew you and your sweetheart would be pleased to see each other, I just didn't think you'd be that pleased." Charlie let out a groan and let her head drop onto the table with a dull thump.

"Oh, God." Her abashed grumbling came out all muffled, but Sarahjane got the gist of it.

"No, no! There's no need to feel embarrassed." She assured her, reaching over and giving her friend's head a comforting pat. "But my momma would not approve." She added, though she was still only teasing. Charlie slowly lifted her head from the table, her red lips twisted with embarrassment.

"Neither would mine." She agreed, though she tried not to think about it too much. Her mother had been an old-fashioned women, certain acts were supposed to be scorned until marriage. Charlie had thought that she would have same mind-set, at least, that had always been the plan. But apparently, the effect that Richard Sherman had on her was enough to quickly change her mind.

"I don't blame ya, he  _is_  a cutie." Sarahjane went on. Charlie got up from her seat after realising that she didn't have anything in front of her. She grabbed her portfolio from a shelf whilst her friend spoke. "Although, I reckon I prefer his brother." Charlie laughed at that as she sat back down.

"He's married, SJ." She reminded her. She unzipped the large, black case and it opened like a book. Charlotte leafed through the artwork she had already finished until she came across the drawing she needed. That day, she too was working on the animation for the 'Jolly Holiday' sequence, more specifically the characters present for 'Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious'. She would be getting to grips with more of the work they did in her new department once Mac arrived, but he didn't usually grace them with his presence until later in the morning. So even though both she and Dick had been late, she still had a lot of time on her hands.

"Oh, I know. Still, a girl can dream, can't she?" Sarahjane winked at her, making Charlie shake her head in amusement. She'd instantly taken a liking to the woman because of her humour and vivacity, but she was only just beginning to discover the depths of her optimism and kindness, even if she did tease her mercilessly. Sarahjane put down her pencil and propped her chin up on her fist, her bright blue eyes lighting up with mischief once again. "So?" She proposed. "How was it?" And there was a perfect example of her devilish humour. Charlie almost dropped her own pencil from the shock of such an outrageous question.

"SJ!" She gasped, her mouth falling open. Sarahjane chuckled at the appalled look on her face. It was fun to poke fun at her, testing the boundaries of her manners.

"What? You  _have_  to tell me, I'm your best friend! It's what best friends do!" She retorted, leaning back in her chair and grinning. That surprised Charlie. They'd only known each other for a little while, only a day or so, and already she had been the venerated title of Best Friend. Charlie had never had a best friend before, apart from Dick, but he was more than that now. She tried not to show how much Sarahjane's words meant to her, not wanting to seem weepy or overemotional.

"Still!" She cried, still not completely over her friend's shocking question. Sarahjane let out an annoyed groan and scooched her chair closer, trying to create an air of secrecy.

"You don't have to give me all the gory details, just a quick summary." She murmured, even though they were the only two people in the room. The other guys were next door, Mac wasn't in yet and Sam, another animator, was off sick, so they wouldn't be interrupted, much to Charlie's disappointment. There was a pregnant pause as the two women carried out their staring contest. Finally, Charlie gave in.

"You are truly indefatigable." She muttered, shaking her head once again. Sarahjane's triumphant smiled drooped slightly, her eyebrows knitting together.

"Sure." She agreed with a sharp nod, although she didn't really know what it meant. She made a mental note to ask someone else later, but for now, she had juicy gossip to get her teeth into. "So?" She pressed, her grin reforming and spreading from ear to ear like the Cheshire Cat. Charlotte crossed and uncrossed her arms, feeling uncomfortable under SJ's expectant gaze. Finally, she shrugged and said,

"It was lovely." Sarahjane's eyebrows shot up. Well, she'd never heard that one before.

"Lovely?" She repeated, making Charlie look even more embarrassed. She'd never had a close friend before so she'd never actually talked about this sort of thing with anyone. Her friendship with Sarahjane was a strange new world, although at that moment, she felt far too mortified to enjoy it. "Okay, I can work with that." Charlie frowned then, worry beginning to settle in.

"Is 'lovely' not alright?" She asked, not sure what kind of terminology SJ was used to, or in fact, what terminology was normally utilised for this particular topic.

"It's just an odd word to use under the circumstances." Commented Sarahjane, confirming her suspicions. Charlie thought again, her embarrassment diminishing the more they talked about it.

"Alright then, it was excellent. A lot of fun." She tried again, even beginning to smile at the memory of the night before. It  _had_  been a lot of fun. Sarahjane watched Charlie bite her lip, trying to hold back her grin. The blonde rubbed her palms together, she was enjoying herself immensely. She had guessed as soon as she met her that Charlotte would be a hard nut to crack. She was far too polite and far too civilised for her liking, so she had made it her mission to get her English friend to embrace her wilder side.

"Now we're getting somewhere." Sarahjane crowed, resting her chin on her palm and settling in for a good story. But Charlie suddenly seemed to realise her own debauchery and shook her head.

"That's  _all_  you're getting." She corrected her. The look on her friend's face was priceless. She sat bolt upright and stared at Charlie, her jaw going slack, outraged by the unjustness of it all.

"What? No!"

"Yes!"

"Please?"

"No!"

"Fine." She conceded, sitting back in her chair and folding her arms, looking very much like a sulking child. "But the next time I get myself a man, you ain't hearin' a word about it." Charlotte laughed at her words, once again finding herself very fortunate to have a friend like Sarahjane Gregg.

They had the room to themselves all morning, which they enjoyed greatly. Although they both adored their fellow artists, it was fun with just the two of them. It wasn't until a few hours later, just before lunch, that they were finally disturbed.

"Charlie?" The artist looked up at the sound of her name, but saw no one there. Sarahjane had gone next door to fetch something, and although it was very likely that she might be playing a trick on her, the voice was definitely masculine. "I know you're busy with all the work you have to catch up on, what with you being so late and all..." Charlie sighed then and looked towards the door to the office, immediately figuring out who was speaking to her.

"What do you want, Robert?" She called across the room. The musician stuck his head around the door and grinned at her. The sight was ridiculous, and Charlie instantly forgave him for tormenting her.

"You are hereby cordially invited to dinner." The floating head said. Charlotte frowned at him, her hands frozen in mid-air.

"I'm sorry?" He laughed at her bewildered expression and entered the room, closing the door softly behind him. Bob didn't come up to the animation department much, but he knew that they liked to keep things relatively quiet. Of course, it wasn't exactly silent in those colourful rooms, but he was only visiting and he didn't like to disturb the peace of those who were working.

"You're eating dinner at ours tonight." He went on, his tone also noticeably lower. Charlotte raised an eyebrow and finally lowered her hands.

"I am?" She smirked. This was the first she was hearing about it. Perhaps Dick had meant to tell her and forgotten about it. They hadn't had much time to speak that day, or the night before. The thought brought a heat to her cheeks that she tried to subtly fan away with one hand whilst Bob continued.

"It was my wife's doing, so I'm afraid you have no choice." He explained, letting Dick off the hook. "When I told the family that you'd come back, she was over the moon and insisted that I invite you round." That was interesting. Charlie had heard very little about Bob's wife, but it appeared she knew a lot about her. Charlotte stood up from her chair and met him in the centre of the room.

"Oh, that's lovely." She told Bob happily. "You must give her my thanks." The musician began to smile, inclining his head to match his question.

"Is that a yes?" Charlotte nodded, beginning to feel quite excited about the idea.

"Yes, it is." She confirmed, much to Bob's delight. He and his wife had been meaning to ask Charlie around to dinner for a long time, but what with recent events, they thought now was the perfect time to get together. "Thank you." Charlie added. "For the invitation." Bob waved her off as he turned back towards the door.

"It's no problem." He assured her. Just before he left, he turned on the spot and added, "Dick's gonna pick you up at six, okay?" Charlie nodded one last time, seemingly unable to stop smiling.

"Alright. Now, you better get out of here sharpish." She warned, guiding him towards the door. "My new friend has her eye on you." Bob snorted and turned around in the doorway to face her.

"Oh, I know. Why do you think I'm so afraid to come up here?" He said his goodbyes, grinned once more, and quickly left. He could joke about it, but he was secretly a little nervous of the blonde animator who smiled at him so sweetly. Charlie pondered over his offer as she walked slowly back towards her work. She'd been so quick to agree, she hadn't taken the time to really think about the invitation. She suddenly felt quite nervous. What if Bob's wife didn't like her? What if she said something stupid? What if she tripped over or spilt something or-

The door opened again and the sound made Charlie jump. Funnily enough, it was Dick who stood in the doorway. Though he had given her quite the scare, she was glad to be brought away from her troublesome thoughts.

"Hey." His smile alone was distraction enough. Had he always looked so adorable? Or was it only now they were together that he seemed so attractive? As always, he looked happy to see her. He had this light about him, his zealous nature and kind heart simply glowed. Charlotte suddenly found herself very fortunate to be the object of his affections.

"Hi." She replied, immediately rushing around the table to kiss his cheek. Though she had loved him for the longest time, she had resisted most forms of affection. A smile was fine, a hug was risky, and kissing was simply out of the question. Although, thinking back, she had broken her own rules many, many times and if she was completely honest, she didn't feel all that guilty about it. Now, though, she was determined to make up for lost time, and aimed to shower him with displays of affection, though not in public.

"Wanna get some lunch?" He proposed. All of a sudden, Charlotte's stomach growled and she realised just how hungry she was. She nodded, placing her hand on his shoulder briefly before turning away.

"Yes, that'd be lovely. Just give me a second, alright?" Dick didn't mind waiting, so she began to tidy away her things as quickly as possible. She was suddenly starving, so to keep her mind off her rather noisy stomach, she brought up what had been troubling her before she was thankfully interrupted. "So, I heard about dinner." She couldn't see Dick, but she could practically feel his enthusiasm from across the room.

"You excited?" He asked her. Well, he was clearly looking forward to it, but Charlie wasn't so sure.

"I suppose. I'm a little nervous actually." She admitted, tucking her hair behind her ear as she looked up at him. "What's Bob's wife like?" Dick tilted his head to the side and smiled at her. He could tell that she was anxious, she was easy to read, but there was no reason to be. He crossed the room and took her hands in his, squeezing them reassuringly.

"She's amazing, you'll love her." He murmured, watching Charlie bite her lip nervously. "And she'll love you." That seemed to calm her down. The lip biting stopped and her shoulders lowered. Charlie took a deep breath and smiled back at him quickly before she moved to grab her handbag.

"Alright, let's go. I'm starving." Just as they were about to leave, the door at the other end of the room opened and Sarahjane appeared, her nose buried in a book. Charlie guessed it was the mystery novel she'd been telling her about earlier, the one she was going to borrow after she'd finished it. She tried not to disturb Sarahjane, who actually hadn't noticed their presence, as she made to leave, but Dick, always excited to meet new people, closed the door again and called over to her.

"Oh, hello!" Sarahjane looked up, her eyebrows drawn together in annoyance. She didn't like to be interrupted when she was reading, especially as she found the book particularly consuming. However, to Charlotte's misery, she instantly recognised Dick and her expression softened. A light seemed to spring into life behind her eyes and her inherent butter-wouldn't-melt smile tilted into a delighted, evil grin. She dropped the book onto the table, it was nowhere near as interesting as the man in front of her, and slowly turned towards Dick, who was blissfully unaware of what was to come.

"Hello yourself!" She replied, her sweet voice suddenly dropping to a darker, huskier tone that frankly worried Charlotte. "I'm Sarahjane Gregg, but you can call me SJ. I'm a friend of Charlie's." She reached out a hand for him to shake which Dick gladly accepted. "You must be Dick Sherman." The musician look briefly surprised and smiled at Charlotte when he realised that she must have told her about him.

"That's right." Dick said brightly as he shook her hand. Charlie thought his happiness was very sweet, but all she could offer in return was a nervous smile. Sarahjane still had that light behind her eyes. She nodded, languidly tucking a strand of golden hair behind one ear. That was when Charlie knew that whatever it was that she was about to bring up was going to be very bad for her.

"I'm a big fan," Sarahjane told him, smiling confidently. Then she nodded to the woman by his side. "And from what I've heard from Charlie, so is she." Charlie immediately jumped into action, having anticipated such a debased sentence.

"Alright!" She cut in sharply, trying to ignore the surprised look on Dick's face. God, if she'd felt embarrassed before, this was plain torture. "I'm glad you two have met but we really must be going." She tried to tug on her partner's arm but he wouldn't budge.

"But Charlie, we've hardly said hello to each other." He protested, finding it strange that she wouldn't want them to talk. He'd been looking forward to meeting Sarahjane after all that Charlie had said about her, so why was she suddenly trying to separate them?

"No, you did say it, you did say 'hello'. I remember it well." Charlotte said briskly, beginning to adopt her stern voice that she only used in dire situations. Sarahjane scoffed and waved an airy hand.

"Aw shucks, she's just embarrassed, but there's no need to be." She assured them both. She looked up at Dick then, that cunning smile coming out in full force. "No need for you to be feeling embarrassed either, sugar." She added, giving him a conspiratorial nudge and a wink. Dick stared at the woman, his eyes wide, before he turned to Charlotte.

"Okay, let's go." He muttered, taking her by the hand and hurrying to the door. Charlie looked over her shoulder as they left to see her friend laughing raucously.

"See you in a bit, SJ." She said, giving the woman a withering look. Sarahjane just waved it off and kept on laughing.

Once she'd closed the door, Charlie found Dick just down corridor. He was staring at the floor, a look of consternation on his handsome face. She awkwardly approached him, her hand meeting her other elbow.

"That was weird." Dick murmured. Charlie was discouraged, though not exactly surprised, to see that his face was a little flushed. Dick finally looked up at her, an eyebrow raised curiously. "Exactly how much did you tell her?" Charlotte quickly explained that she hadn't told her anything like what Sarahjane had just insinuated, which seemed to calm him down. He wasn't angry, just surprised, he hadn't expected their relationship to be the first topic he and Charlie's new friend discussed.

"I wouldn't have told her anything if I had my way, but she kept pestering me about it." She sighed and reached out to him, running her hand up and down the top of his arm. "I'm sorry, darling." She murmured. Dick began to smile then. She had never called him that before.

"Don't be." He dismissed her apology. Then he began to smile. "Clearly you only told her good things." Suddenly, his smirk reminded Charlotte very much of Sarahjane's. "Sounds like you were very complimentary." He added, making Charlotte groan in annoyance.

"Dick." She warned him in a low voice, she'd had enough of being teased that day. But Dick was having fun now, he liked how flustered she got whenever they talked about sex. Alone, she was confident, at work, where anyone could hear them, her barriers went up and her Britishness kicked in.

"Dare I say... Satisfied?" Before he could even blink, Charlotte gave a huff and turned on her heel.

"Richard Sherman, you awful man." She cursed him as she walked away down the corridor. She just so happened to move very quickly when indignant, and it took a few seconds for Dick to catch up with her and wrap his arms around her waist.

"No, no, no, I'll never keep up with you if you run like that." He laughed as she turned around in his arms and looked up at him with a scowl. "This is fun, usually I don't get to tease you." He said, still grinning cheerily. Charlie wasn't really angry with him, but she still felt a little ruffled after the morning she'd had.

"Don't get used to it." She muttered darkly, although she was beginning to smile again. She liked the feeling of his arms around her waist, his chest against hers. If anyone walked by, they'd have to come up with a good explanation for their position, but neither particularly cared.

"I love you." Dick murmured, leaning forward and kissing her forehead sweetly. Charlotte hummed happily, and he knew all was forgiven.

"Love you too." She replied, though she did add. "You're an idiot." Dick grinned and pulled her closer against him.

" _Your_  idiot." He corrected her, before he pressed his lips against hers. Charlie allowed herself a few moments of pleasure before she pulled away and out of his embrace.

"Lunch." She said firmly, and despite his protestations at the kissing ending so soon, they left the department hand in hand.

* * *

"I'm nervous."

"What? Why?"

"I've never really done this sort of thing before."

"Is that why you brought..?"

"What?"

"Nothing."

"... Is this not alright?"

"It's certainly unusual."

"I panicked."

"Clearly." Charlotte heaved an exhausted groan and stopped walking.

"Oh, God, Richard." She muttered, eyeing her strange gift with dismay. Dick laughed at her petulant actions, but stopped when he saw the miserable look on her face.

"Charles, it's fine!" He tried to reassure her, but apparently he didn't sound all that convincing. They were a couple of doors down from his brother's house. Though it wasn't a long walk, Charlie's nerves had made the journey drag on considerably. When she'd said that she'd never done this sort of thing before, what she meant was that she'd never gotten to this stage in a relationship. She'd had boyfriends in the past, but none of them had been serious. Her and Dick however, that was something else entirely, and while she wasn't afraid of the direction in which their relationship was moving, she couldn't help but find the prospect of meeting his family a little formidable. Bob she knew well, but his wife and children, excluding Laurie, were strangers. She'd always been rather good at first impressions, but the importance of this particular meeting was making Charlotte doubt herself, and the obscure gift in her hands was not helping. "You've got nothing to worry about, they'll love you." Dick went on. As he did so, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, guiding her the last few feet to his brother's house. Charlotte's worried expression remained intact.

"You're just saying that." She muttered, her attention completely drawn by the present in her hands so that she didn't notice they'd begun to walk again.

"Well, it's too late now, we're here." Charlotte's head snapped up, her eyes wide, as she realised what he'd done. They were standing on the doorstep of a gorgeous little house, warm light emanating through the drawn curtains in the windows. Before she could protest, Dick rang the doorbell. Panic began to settle in. Seeing her chances of escape slimming before her eyes, Charlie looked over her shoulder down the street.

"Oh, wait, is that a shop down the road?" She began to move away from the door. Her foot had just left the step when Dick wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her against him.

"Don't you dare-" He managed to utter before the front door swung open. It was Bob who answered and he smiled widely at his brother and his friend.

"Hi!" He greeted them, and Dick pulled Charlie against his side, trying to act natural and hide the fact that his girlfriend had just attempted a quick getaway.

"Hello!" They chorused in unison, both gracefully covering Charlie's failed escape. Bob didn't seem to notice the surprised expressions on their faces and stepped aside, gesturing for them to come through.

"Come on in, make yourselves at home." He told his guests. Charlie glanced up at Dick, sending him a silent apology before she stepped inside. She tried not to seem nosey as she looked around the house, taking in as much as she could from the hallway. From what she could see, it was a beautiful little house. It had a warm feeling to it, definitely the home of a happy family. Her attention was recaptured when Dick began to take her coat from her and she thanked him, shrugging the heavy item off her shoulders for him to hang up. That was when she awkwardly presented her gift to Bob. She held it aloft and attempted a smile.

"I brought this." She said, holding the lurid yellow lamp out to Bob. The musician eyed the gift, his mouth hanging slightly open.

"Why..?" He asked slowly, glancing between Charlie and his brother, hoping for some kind of explanation. Dick shrugged faintly and Charlie's smile began to falter, revealing her true feelings.

"I really don't know." She answered honestly. Dick had to force down a smile. Charlie was intelligent and witty and reliable, but her ability to make decisions under pressure was clearly lacking.

"She panicked." He elucidated for Bob, mimicking what Charlie had told him not five minutes ago. Bob nodded slowly, still warily studying the lamp.

"Clearly." He replied, draining the last of Charlie's courage. He grinned suddenly and took the lamp from Charlotte, who looked like she might need to sit down. "Come on through, I'll introduce you." He guided the pair down the hallway, the strange present still in his hands. They were just about to turn into the living room when Charlie began to panic again.

"Wait, Bob!" She realised in a hushed voice. "Neither of you have told me your wife's-"

"Oh, hello! You must be Charlotte!" The artist shut her mouth with a snap. Bob's wife stood up from her seat on the sofa and came towards her guests with open arms. Bob stood beside his wife, sliding an arm around her shoulders.

"Charlie, I'd like you to meet my pride and Joyce." He introduced them. Behind her, she heard Dick groan at the pun while his wife simply shook her head.

"He makes that same joke every time he introduces me." She sighed. "Eight years we've been married and it's still not funny." Charlie found herself smiling then, her fears quickly assuaged by Joyce's warm demeanour. She was a little taller than her, with dark curly hair and a heart-shaped face. She was smiley and sweet, Charlie instantly took a liking to her. Joyce took her hands and squeezed them, somehow she seemed to notice how nervous Charlie felt. "You will not believe how excited I am to finally meet you." She told her in a quiet voice, still smiling warmly.

"It's lovely to meet you too, Joyce." Charlie replied, and it wasn't just her manners that produced the words, it truly was wonderful to finally get to know Bob's family.

"Charlie brought us a lamp." Bob announced, raising the gift for her to see. He was really testing her mettle tonight. Charlie bit her lip as Joyce studied the lamp.

"Oh, my." She said, seemingly quite astounded by the obscure gift. Most people brought wine or flowers, Charlotte had brought them furniture. "How thoughtful." She took the lamp from her husband and peered at it. It truly was an ugly thing. In her panic, Charlie had picked out the first thing she'd seen in the shop. Coincidentally, it was the same one that Bob has joked about getting for his brother, and he was finding it all terribly amusing.

"She panicked." He explained, making Charlotte blush. Joyce saw how embarrassed the poor girl looked and decided they should move swiftly on.

"Well, thank you, Charlie." She said, giving her a warm smile that Charlie didn't really think she'd earned. Joyce took her by the hand and led her to the sofa. "Come on, come sit down with me." She placed the terrifically hideous lamp down on the coffee table then patted the seat beside her. She had a motherly tone, despite being just a few years older than her, kind but firm. "Now, tell me all about yourself." Charlie wasn't sure where to begin, but thankfully Joyce bought her a little time by glancing up at her brother-in-law who had sat down in an armchair across from them. "Although, I think I must have heard just about everything already from Dick." Charlie's lips parted in surprise and she turned to Dick to see him hiding his face.

"Don't do this." He pleaded with her, but Joyce wasn't done teasing him yet. She still had Charlie's hands folded between her own, so when she turned back to face her, Charlotte felt like they were sharing secrets.

"That man has been a smitten kitten for the longest time." Joyce told her, much to Charlie's delight and Dick's exasperation. Charlie raised an eyebrow at her partner, beginning to feel a lot more relaxed now that the attention wasn't on her. Dick looked up at his brother as he entered the room, a bottle of wine and four glasses in his hands.

"Bob, please." He begged him. How Bob had heard the conversation from the kitchen, Charlie couldn't be sure. It was much more likely that he had anticipated his wife's line of questioning, seen the look of mortification on his brother's face, and put two and two together.

"There's nothing I can do, sorry." He shrugged helplessly and Dick slumped in his chair, looking defeated.

"You know," Joyce went on, squeezing Charlotte's hand a little. It was nice, it felt like they were already close friends. "Dick came round for dinner on your first day at the studios and he just would not stop talking about you." Charlie couldn't help but think that was incredibly sweet. She tried to hold back her delighted smile but couldn't quite manage it. Instead, she looked around at Dick again to see that he had turned quite red.

"Oh, really?" She grinned wickedly at him and he rolled his eyes, though he did give her the faintest hint of a smile in return. Charlie knew that he'd liked her for a long time, he'd told her so himself. But it was such a wonderful thing to know that before he'd thought of her in a romantic way, he had told his family all about her.

"Of course, I was intrigued." Joyce continued, enjoying the abashed look on Dick's face and the elated look on Charlie's. "Dick had never talked about a girl like that before. Then Bob came home one day and said that you and him were like two peas in a pod." She laughed then, a bright sound that Charlie found herself smiling at. "I was so happy for you two." Joyce patted her hand and shook her head in disbelief. "Gosh, I've been wanting to meet you since the day you arrived." Charlie looked into the eyes of the kind woman in front of her and realised that all her fears and anxieties had vanished. It was a strange thing, to move halfway across the world, risking everything to be with someone. Never in a million years had she thought that she would ever do such a thing. But now, there she was, in a whole new country, starting a whole new life. It might have felt entirely different if it weren't for the new family she had been given as a reward for her bravery.

"Gosh, that's so terribly-" She broke off when she realised what she'd done. Joyce had been waiting to meet her for months, and now the time had finally come, and she... "Oh, my God. I brought you a lamp." Charlie breathed, her hand covering her mouth, seemingly shocked with her own ridiculousness. Joyce chuckled at the look on her face and squeezed her head comfortingly.

"And a lovely lamp it is too." She assured her, although with its yellow fringe and garish pattern, Charlie knew she was probably just trying to make her feel better.

"I hope I'm not too much of a disappointment." She said weakly, trying her hardest not to feel too bad about her awful gift. Joyce tutted and shook her head.

"Honey, you're a delight and you've only just walked through the door." She reassured her, and Charlie felt a little better. There was a shrill ring from the kitchen and Joyce finally let go of her hand. "Oh, that's the chicken." She said, almost to herself. She got up from her seat, brushing down the front of her dress as she did so. "I hope you're hungry." She called to Charlotte as she walked towards the door.

"Starving." Charlie said firmly, which seemed to please Joyce.

"I'll help you." Bob told his wife, then followed her out of the door. Charlie thought they were a nice pair, Joyce being very outgoing and talkative whilst Bob was a little more reserved, but kind of heart. Dick heaved himself out of his comfortable chair, ready to move on to the dining room in a minute. Charlie met him in the centre of the room, her hands immediately looping around his neck. It felt like she belonged in his arms, she was determined to return to that position whenever possible.

"Still feeling nervous?" He asked, smiling down at her sweetly. Though she hated to ruin the moment, Charlie couldn't help but say,

"Still feeling smitten?" She laughed brightly when Dick groaned and lowered his head to rest his forehead against hers.

"Oh, that's embarrassing." He murmured, making her laugh again.

"You've been talking about me..." She continued to taunt him, payback for not letting her get away earlier, even though she was having a wonderful time.

"Please."

"Since the day I arrived..."

"Don't, no, it's so embarrassing."

"'Never talked about a girl like that before'."

"Shut up." He muttered, though there was no sharpness to his words. He mumbled them against her neck, sending a shiver over her skin.

"Make me." She shot back, taking the opportunity he had granted her. He raised his head and gave her sweet half-smile before kissing her, perhaps a little more ardently then was appropriate with their hosts in the next room. Although, either Joyce or Bob walking in at that moment would have been infinitely better than what actually happened.

"Uncle Dick!" The happy shriek made them jump apart. There in the doorway stood Laurie, dressed in her nightgown, a teddy bear clutched in her little hand. Then she saw who he was with and her eyes widened even further. "Charlie!"

"Laurie!" Dick struggled to come up with some sort of reason as to why he and Charlie had been wrapped around each other, but was failing miserably. "We were just-"

"You're back! You're back! I knew you'd come back!" The little girl tore across the room and threw herself at Charlotte's legs, hugging her knees tight. Charlie might've fallen over if Dick hadn't been very quick on the draw, grabbing onto her elbow to support her. Laurie looked up at the artist with such unadulterated joy on her face that Charlie couldn't help but smile back. She reached down and carefully unpicked her fingers from the backs of her knees so that Dick could hoist her up into his arms. She comfortably sat in the crook of his elbow so that she was level with Charlie's eyes. "So does this mean you're Uncle Dick's girlfriend now?" Charlie laughed brightly at her forwardness. She liked that she didn't hold back, she wished she could be as spontaneous.

"Yes, it does." She confirmed, slyly meeting her partner's eyes to see that he was grinning too. Laurie seemed satisfied with her answer, but as always, she had a stream of questions that needed answering.

"Are you gonna get married?" She asked sweetly. Charlie couldn't decide whether Laurie had no idea what kind of position she put people in when she asked such questions, or whether she understood perfectly. Her smile faltered a little and she glanced at Dick again, who looked like a deer caught in the headlights. For once, Charlie wasn't the one to feel embarrassed by Laurie's questions and she decided to have some fun with it.

"Well," She began, making sure to watch Dick out of her corner of her eye. "He hasn't asked me." Laurie's face twisted in confusion and she turned her attention to her uncle, who was quickly growing bright red.

"Why not?" She asked him, her head tilted to the side innocently. Dick looked fearfully between the two girls, one staring at him in bewilderment, the other biting her lip to stop herself from laughing.

"Uh..."

"Dinner's ready!" It was Bob who called to them, but he stopped in the doorway when he saw his daughter. "Laurie, what are you doing out of bed?" He scolded her, which Charlie always found strange. It is always peculiar to see ones friends in a parental role. The usually laid back Bob took on a different tone when telling off his daughter, something Charlie assumed happened often.

"I needed a glass of water." Laurie quickly explained as her mother joined her father in the doorway. Dick gently lowered her to the carpet, but her hand instantly found his once she was standing. "Can I stay up and talk to Charlie? Please?" Charlotte was very touched by this, but she knew it was too late for the young girl to be up talking.

"Sorry, sweetie, but it's way past your bedtime." Joyce told her daughter, thinking along the same lines as Charlie. Laurie pouted but said no more, clearly knowing how to pick her battles.

"C'mon," Bob said, taking his daughter by the hand and leading her to the kitchen. "Let's get you your water." Joyce gestured for Dick and Charlotte to follow her into the dining room. The hallway that connected the living room and the dining room also happened to lead into the kitchen, so Laurie shouted her goodbyes down the corridor to them.

"Goodnight Uncle Dick, goodnight Aunt Charlie!" She said enthusiastically. They both laughed at the little girl and said goodnight back.

"It's okay, you'll be able to talk to Charlie all the time." Joyce reassured her. Then she winked at Charlie, who began to smile. "She's going to be coming around a lot."

"Especially since she'll probably bring us a coffee table next time." Bob added as he poured water into a glass for Laurie. Dick snorted whilst Charlie shook her head, still feeling quite embarrassed about her lapse in judgement.

"And then perhaps a new couch." Added Joyce, before she ushered the pair into the dining room. Dick was still chuckling at the exchange, but he stopped when he felt a hand on his arm. He looked around at Charlie, who had a stunned look on her pretty face. He asked her what was wrong in a soft voice, and for a moment, he got no reply. Then finally, with her eyes shining, Charlie murmured,

"She called me 'Aunt Charlie'." Dick grinned at her joyful expression and wrapped an arm around his girlfriend's shoulders, guiding her towards her seat.

* * *

Although Charlie eventually forgot about what Laurie had said, it resonated with Dick for some time. His niece's words sat in his head for the rest of the evening, and then every day after that. It wasn't until two weeks later, on Christmas Eve, that he finally worked up the courage to ask her.

Towards the end of the day, when the department was relatively empty, Charlotte heard a light knock on the door. She knew it would be Dick even before he came in. They always left work together, no matter how late the other person was going to be. There was always a lot of work to get done, so usually one would help the other so that they got it finished in less time. That day, Charlie was the one still working, she assumed Dick had come to help her.

"Hey!" He greeted her warmly, though there was something different about him. He was walking differently. Usually he was bouncing around all over the place, especially when he hadn't seen her in a while, but at that moment, he was slower, calmer. He kept swinging his arms as if he was nervous about something. Or maybe she was just seeing things. Charlie had worked pretty hard that day and had got a lot done, but she was exhausted now and ready to go home.

"I'll be ready in a minute." She told him. "You can sit down, if you like." Dick nodded, telling her that he understood, but he didn't accept her offer. Instead of sitting down at her desk like she'd suggested, he came closer to her.

"Can I ask you something?" He inquired, his head tilted adorably. Charlie would have made a joke about him having just asked her something, but she was simply too tired.

"Of course." She replied brightly, abandoning her work for a moment and turning to face him. He kept wringing his hands. Was she imagining things, or was he breathing rather deeply? She studied him warily, but didn't call him out on his strange behaviour.

"Okay, first of all..." He closed the distance between them and surprised her with a sweet but chaste kiss. "And second... I'd, uh..." He cleared his throat and stood up a little straighter, trying to steel his nerves whilst Charlie looked on curiously. "I'd like to..." He tried again, but his words seemed to fail him. Instead of asking what he actually wanted, he pointed to the mountain of work that sat on her desk. "Do you need help?" He asked suddenly. Charlotte frowned at him, not quite knowing what had him so wound up.

"Um, alright." She said slowly. "I'd love some, thank you." He'd helped her enough times to know that all of the artwork needed to be packed away at the end of the day to keep it safe. Dick nodded and began to gather up the scattered drawings, all the while berating himself for his cowardice. Charlie finally finished what she was doing and also began to pack away her work, carefully placing specific drawings back in her portfolio.

"Hey, Charlie, can you do me favour?" She heard Dick ask from somewhere behind her. She nodded but she didn't turn around, her attention still captured by the pile she was rooting through.

"Yes, of course. What is it?" She asked, although her voice grew faint towards the end of her question. Dick knew that he didn't have her full attention, but that made things a little easier for him.

"Will you marry me?"

"Well, I-" Charlotte froze, cutting off her own words as his question sank in. When she finally turned around, her eyes were wide and her mouth was slightly open. If Dick hadn't been so nervous, he probably would've laughed at the expression on her face. Charlie shook her head slightly, blinked a few times, then let out a short, sharp breath. She wasn't entirely sure that she'd heard him correctly. "What did you just say?" She whispered. Dick could've come up with a thousand impossibly romantic things to answer her question, but as always, the sight of her left him speechless. Every poetic word he had prepared in his head fell to pieces when she looked at him, so instead, he simply said,

"Marry me. Please." He shook his head in disbelief, finding that there was nothing that he could say that could express his love for her. Charlie's eyes grew even wider as she watched him kneel before her. From his pocket, Richard drew a red velvet box. He hadn't even had time to open it before she gave her reply, so softly he almost didn't hear it.

"Yes."


	26. Chapter 26

By June the next year, Charlotte had essentially moved into Dick's house. She spent most nights there, it was closer to the studios than her hotel and she certainly preferred his company to an empty room. Even so, she maintained that she hadn't  _actually_  moved in, insisting that this was out of the question until after the wedding. She just didn't see the point of renting a flat when in a few months, they would be living together. They didn't need to label it, Charlotte simply stayed over whenever she liked, and on some occasions, one night stretched into a couple of days. Those were the best times, it was like they were already living together. Dick couldn't wait for Charlie to move in properly, to be his wife. The idea was boggling, he still did a double-take whenever he saw the ring on her fourth finger.

12th June fell at the tail end of one of Charlie's extended stays. It also happened to be Dick's birthday, which was why he'd been so pleased to see her small bag of clothes two days before. However, on that bright morning, he woke up alone. This wasn't completely out of the ordinary, Charlie was usually already getting dressed by the time he managed to wake up. But when Dick walked downstairs, he didn't find his fiancée wishing him a happy birthday. Instead, he found an empty house and a short note.

_Good morning and Happy Birthday!_

_I'm out and about today, but I'll see you this evening._

_I love you._

He smiled a little, figuring Charlie was going to spend the day getting things ready for when he got home from work. She had promised that it wouldn't be a big celebration, but as she'd raised her hand to take the oath, there had also been a mischievous grin on her face, so he didn't know how seriously she was taking the promise. He sighed, feeling a little disheartened. It felt weird being without her now, especially on today of all days. He dropped her note back onto the counter and began to make breakfast.

"Happy Birthday to me." He murmured to himself.

Dick had never been one to enjoy being alone, so he'd got ready for work quickly and arrived at the studios just a little while later. First he went upstairs to his and his brother's office to drop off his coat and briefcase. He had assumed that Bob would meet him in the rehearsal room, but instead he was surprised to find him waiting for him in their office. As soon as Dick walked through the open door, Bob jumped up from his seat.

"Hey! If it ain't my baby brother." He greeted him, starting the usual mockery as soon as possible. Dick snorted as he took off his heavy coat, laying it across the back of his chair. Bob only ever referred to him as his 'baby brother' when he wanted to annoy him.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" He shot back. They were only born three years apart, but Bob liked to remind him of his status whenever possible. His brother's face suddenly fell and he stared at Dick, a challenging look in his eyes.

"What was that?" He said quietly. Dick stopped in the middle of rifling through his briefcase to look up at him curiously, wondering why his tone had shifted so abruptly. Then he saw the glint in Bob's eyes and knew he'd made a big mistake.

"No." He said, raising a firm hand. He knew what that look meant. Despite his cane, Bob could move quickly when he needed to. He grabbed his brother, who let out a cry. "Bob, no!" Before Dick could try to escape, Bob had swiftly trapped him in a headlock. This had been his default move whenever he and his little brother had fought when they were younger. Fortunately, it appeared to still do the trick.

"What? You think just 'cause we're both adults, I can't teach you a lesson for being a smartass?" He ground his knuckles against the top of brother's head, another beloved tactic. Although he refrained from being too rough with him, he didn't give in to Dick's cries for mercy. The younger Sherman tried to pry his brother's hands apart to free his head, but Bob's fingers were interlocked, his cane abandoned on the floor by their feet.

"You have a job, you have a wife, you were a soldier!" Dick's voice came out a little strangled, but Bob got the message. He chuckled as his brother continued to struggle. He wasn't holding him too tightly, nor was Dick trying too hard to escape. They were just playing around like when they were kids, although both were a lot stronger now and a lot more forgiving.

"I'll still kick your ass!" Bob laughed as tightened his hold on his brother. Dick made sure to keep him close so that he was no longer pulling him around, then used the arm trapped between them to reach around and push Bob's face back, being careful to avoid his eyes. He hadn't been so concerned about that when they kids and one time Bob had nearly lost an eye.

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything." Still laughing breathlessly, the brothers looked up at the sound of a new voice and to their horror, they saw their boss standing in the doorway. Bob's arm slipped away from Dick's neck and he stood up straight.

"Walt." The eldest Sherman greeted quietly. He wasn't sure if he was more afraid of being reprimanded by their boss, or embarrassed at having been caught play fighting with his co-worker.

"Hey." Added Dick awkwardly as he rubbed his sore shoulder. Walt smiled at the pair.

"Hi." He replied. They looked worried, but there was no need. He wasn't going to yell at them for doing what came natural to siblings. He himself had an older brother, he had been in Dick's position many times. "Just came to see how you two were doing." His smile grew when the brothers exchanged sheepish looks.

"We're doing just fine." Bob replied, reaching over and giving his brother a pat on the shoulder. Dick winced slightly as his actions caused his muscles to smart, but he didn't say anything. Walt hummed in agreement, that bemused look still in his eyes. Finally he turned to leave, and the Shermans could breathe again.

"Okay. I'll be seeing you later." Disney drummed his fingers on the doorframe, trying to think of a good time to drop by later. He had quite a busy day planned, but he wanted to look in on their work. "I wanna hear Karen and Matthew doing their song." He decided finally and the Shermans both smiled. They were beginning to relax now that the embarrassment was wearing off.

"Okay, Walt. See you then." Bob agreed. Walt went to leave, but stopped just as he'd turned the corner. He poked his head around the door and smiled a Dick.

"Oh, Happy Birthday, by the way." He added. Immediately, the musician's face broke out in a huge smile. It was amazing to work in a place where the boss remembered your birthday, let alone Walt Disney himself giving you his personal best wishes.

"Thanks." He said, trying not to give away just how delighted he felt. Disney nodded once more than left them to do their work in peace. Dick blew out a long breath, both relieved that they hadn't got in trouble and surprised that Walt had remembered what day it was. Bob laughed at his brother's thrilled expression then carefully bent down to retrieve his walking stick from the floor.

"C'mon, grab your stuff. We've got work to do."

They both collected the various pieces of music they needed then left for the rehearsal room. Walt had reminded Dick of the plan they had for that day. Karen Dotrice and Matthew Garber were the two actors who would be plying the Banks children in the finished film. They were coming in that day to rehearse one of their first songs. Dick hadn't met them before but Don had, and apparently he had quite the report going with them. From what he'd heard from the writer, he'd shown them a magic trick on their first day at the studios and now they adored him. Don's words, not his. As they walked past the door to the reception, they passed Dolly walking in the opposite direction. She immediately reached for Richard and kissed him on the cheek.

"Happy Birthday!" She squeaked, as chipper as ever. Dick chuckled at how excited she was, but thanked her all the same. As they continued down the hall, a thought suddenly struck Bob. It was unusual for Charlie to not be with them at this time. Now that she worked across the lot, they saw a lot less of her, which was a shame. He missed having her in the rehearsal room, but she was content where she was so he was happy for her. To make up for the lapse in their time together, Charlie always walked with them to the music room to say good morning before she hurried across to the Animation Department.

"I didn't see Charlie this morning." He commented and Dick shook his head.

"Neither did I, she was out of the house early." He replied, and his smile diminished just a little. "She took the day off." Bob nodded his understanding, but frowned when he saw his brother grimace. "She loves her job, so it's making me a little nervous." He muttered. Bob let out a loud laugh as they turned the last corner. He'd figured that Charlie would take the afternoon off to put together a party for that evening, but if she was taking the whole day then she clearly had big plans.

"She's probably just getting things ready for later." He tried to reassure Dick. He saw the slightly alarmed look on his face and quickly added, "A few  _small_  things." Dick snorted at his attempts to mollify him, but he was still a little worried about what Charlie had planned.

"I just hope she doesn't go crazy with the celebrations. I don't want her to tire herself out." Bob shrugged as they walked through the door of the rehearsal room.

"Don't worry about it, she's probably having a great time."

* * *

 "I hate shopping. I hate shopping." Charlotte muttered under her breath as she pushed her trolley down another aisle. She didn't know what it was about Americans that made them make everything so enormous, but she wished they'd stop. The supermarket she was in had to be the size of a palace. If it weren't for the giant numbers above every aisle, she would have gotten lost within five minutes. Two mothers chatting watched her warily as she stalked past them, the murderous look in her eyes scaring them a little. All she'd wanted to do was pick up the ingredients for a cake, but the shop was so huge, it would take her a week to find them all and another to locate the tills. After a good hour of searching, she eventually gathered all that she needed. She took solace in the fact that her trials would not be for nought. This was the first time she would celebrate Dick's birthday with him and she wanted it to be special. She would power through just to make him happy.

With that thought in mind, she lifted her chin and faced her terrifically long To Do list with a new determination. With the shopping done, she could focus on the next task. This one was relatively easier than the last. Down the road from the supermarket was the dry-cleaners where she'd dropped of her nicest dress a few days before. She'd planned a party for Dick and she wanted to look good, so the dry-cleaners it was. Still hefting her heavy bags, she used her shoulder to push the door to the shop open. It was a nice place, simple and clean, and Joyce had recommended it to her the other day. She saw the man behind the counter wince when she unceremoniously dropped her shopping bags but put on a bright smile as soon as he caught her eye.

"Hello, ma'am. How can I help you today?" He rattled off, probably for the fiftieth time that day. Charlie smiled weakly at him as she shook out her hands. The bags had already begun to rub her skin raw, she wasn't looking forward to when she'd have to carry them and her dress across town to Dick's house.

"Hi, I dropped off a dress yesterday." She informed him. The man pulled open a thick book of what she assumed were orders and raised his eyebrows.

"Your name, please?"

"Charlotte Johnson-Liddle." But not for long, she thought suddenly. Another five months and she would be Charlotte Sherman. She'd never been a particularly romantic girl, she'd never fantasized about her future husband and their wedding day. But now, she couldn't wait to finally make it official. Dick would go from her best friend to her husband and she couldn't be happier about it. She was brought out of her thoughts by a short, sharp cough. The man behind the counter had said something, but she was too busy daydreaming to listen. She flushed and smiled nervously at him. "I'm sorry?" She asked. The man looked a little anxious. She noticed he was holding up a bag, presumably the one containing her dress.

"I apologise, ma'am, but there seems to be a problem with your item." He jittered. As he laid the bag flat along the counter, Charlotte's heart began to sink. He cleared his throat awkwardly and pointed out the enormous blanch on the front of her dress, most likely caused by the chemicals they used to clean it. "I can offer you a full refund, ma'am." Charlie stared at the horrid stain as she tried to push down all the frustration that was starting to rise inside of her. If her stressful shop hadn't been enough, this was the icing on the cake, let alone the added delights of the hundred other things she had to do that day. She realised the man was still gawking at her fearfully and she shook her head.

"Sorry, it's just- It's my fiancé's birthday and I've got so much to do, I can't..." She ran a hand down her face, letting out a heavy sigh. She took a few deep breaths, trying to clear her head. It wasn't so bad, she could find another dress to wear. It wasn't the end of the world. With the lid back on her anger, she raised her eyes to the poor man.

"Would you like the refund, ma'am." He asked again. Charlotte sighed once more before nodding wearily.

"Yes, please." She said quietly, not forgetting her manners even then. "Thank you."

* * *

 Dick produced a flurry of notes to get himself warmed up and also to impress the two children standing in front of the piano. They were adorable, both blonde and blue-eyed with sweet singing voices. A good pick by casting.

"You ready?" He asked them, and they nodded enthusiastically. "Okay!"

"Wanted: a nanny for two adorable children." Karen read aloud from the script in her hands. She and Matthew shared a look, an improvisation that made them all laugh. Then Dick remembered he was supposed to be playing and sprang back to the piano keys, rolling out the tune they'd practiced a hundred times. "If you want this choice position, have a cheery disposition."

"Now, Jane, I don't think-" Don began, taking up the role of Mr. Banks in a gruff voice.

"Rosy cheeks, no warts."

"That's the bit I put in." Matthew said, smiling at his audience. He was a smart kid, and despite his age, he had a sharp wit and a charming way with words.

"Play games, all sorts." Karen continued. Unlike her co-star, she was very sweet, but disarmingly so. Only after you'd talked to her did you realise that her big blue eyes masked a mischievous personality to match Matthew's. "You must be kind, you must be witty. Very sweet and fairly pretty." Don harrumphed, as always taking his role very seriously.

"Well, of all the ridiculous-"

"George, please." Bob cut in, filling the role of Mrs. Banks. The children giggled at his high-pitched voice, but didn't lose their time.

"Take us on outings, give us treats. Sing songs, bring sweets." They got through the song with no problems, much to their delight. Bob and Dick were proud that the music they'd written sounded so good, whilst Disney was pleased at his choice of actors. They would do perfectly. "Hurry nanny, many thanks. Sincerely, Jane and Michael Banks." They both nodded on the last beat of the song, just as the script asked of them. The room erupted with applause, making the kids laugh again. Walt left his seat in the corner and came up to give them a pat on the back.

"That was great, kids." He told them, beaming away happily. He was called over by Don so that he could talk to him about the script, leaving the children with the Shermans.

"Do you like the song?" Bob asked them, leaning on his cane as he left the piano and flopped into an armchair. They both nodded eagerly.

"Oh, yes." Karen answered, while beside her, Matthew grinned.

"It's jolly good fun, isn't it?" He said, reminding Dick of Charlie. She had the same way with words, though her taut mannerisms had lessened slightly since her move to America.

"That's what we were hoping for." He said happily, pleased that they'd picked up the song so quickly. It was good to know that two members of their target audience enjoyed the music, it relaxed their nerves about the reception 'Mary Poppins' would receive.

"Charlie would've liked to be here for this." Don said, suddenly appearing by the piano. He and Walt had finished talking and the filmmaker had wondered off back to his office. Dick smiled at him, nodding his head.

"Yeah, she would." He agreed. Matthew looked up at him curiously, although his view was slightly skewed by the piano.

"Who's that?" He asked Dick. The musician realised he and the children couldn't talk properly if he was sat behind the piano, so he got up from the stool and sat in the nearest chair. The others followed suit and soon they were all seated.

"Charlie, she's my fiancée." He told him, smiling slightly at the word. He never got tired of calling her that. A year ago, marrying Charlotte had been a far off dream, an impossibility. Now here they were.

"You're getting married! How exciting." Karen gushed. "When?"

"December."

"Does she work here too?" Dick chuckled at the onslaught of questions. They were an inquisitive pair but he didn't mind. He liked talking to them and it was good that they were getting to know each other better.

"Yeah, in the Animation Department." He explained. "But before then, she helped us. She actually came up with the ending for this song." The memory made the musicians and the writer smile. It had only been her second day when they'd first shown Charlie the 'Nanny Song'. She'd swept into their lives and settled so quickly, it was strange to think that she'd only been supposed to stay for a fortnight.

"She's awfully clever then." Karen said, a touch of awe in her tone. Dick grinned, feeling incredibly proud of his sweetheart.

"Yes, she is."

* * *

 The prospect of walking across town had been too awful to Charlotte, who was not having a good day at all. She hoped that across the city, Dick was having a good birthday at work. She hated not being with him, but she had so much to do and with any luck, it would be worth it. Although, one thing had already gone wrong, and she hadn't even made a dent in her To Do list. To try and raise her spirits, she took the bus home. She'd almost got the hang of the new routes in Los Angeles, but she had to pay close attention to make sure she didn't miss her stop. Unfortunately, Charlie hadn't had much sleep the night before and after exhausting herself by lugging her shopping around, she was in need of a good kip.

She jolted awake when the bus suddenly screeched to an untimely stop. Charlie groaned when she realised she'd fallen asleep and wished her luck would turn. She glanced out of the window and suddenly felt a lot more alert. She'd thought she'd been asleep for perhaps a few minutes or so. But she didn't recognise where she was, so it had been a lot longer than a light nap. With a groan, she stumbled to the front of the bus, grabbing onto the railing as the vehicle lurched around a corner.

"Sorry," She addressed the surly driver, who didn't seem happy about people talking to him whilst he was driving. "But what's the next stop?"

"Tuxford Street." He told her, his eyes never leaving the road ahead. Charlotte didn't recognise the name, and though she hated to do so, she had to ask the driver another question.

"How far is it to Victory Boulevard?" Her stop was just around the corner from Dick's house, but she knew they'd long since passed it. Her suspicions were confirmed when the driver muttered,

"'Bout thirty stops back." Charlie closed her eyes and once again forced down her frustration. She thanked the driver and went back to her seat to gather up her bags. She got off at the next stop, then crossed a busy road to get the same bus going in the opposite direction. She didn't have much time that day, and she'd timed everything with military-like precision. This interval would set her back by an hour, which didn't help with the stress of organising a birthday party.

After the longest journey of her life, Charlie finally made it home. She tried to ignore her burning muscles as she heaved her bags up onto the kitchen counter. She didn't have time to put all her things away, so she just grabbed what she needed to make the cake. She was searching for her recipe book when she happened upon one of the spare invitations she'd had made. Charlie had thought herself rather cunning when she'd posted all the invitations a month ago. That way, everyone would be able to come and Dick would be none the wiser. She smiled to herself as she glanced over the invitation then went to put it in a drawer. Halfway to beginning her search again, she froze. Something in her mind clicked and she dug the invitation back out of the drawer. She'd seen something that shouldn't be and she quickly studied the rectangular card. Then she saw it.

"Oh, no." She breathed. The date on the invitation was for 12th July, a month from today. "Oh, God." She hadn't been paying attention when she wrote down the dates. It dawned on her that after all her hard work, nobody would be coming to the party. At least, not today. "Oh, bugger." She hissed, pinching the bridge of her nose as she tried to think of a way to fix it. But there was no way she would be able to corral all their friends and family on a few hours' notice. She looked down at the invitation in her hand. She thought she'd been so clever. Charlie looked around at the empty house and bit her lip. "Shit."

* * *

 At the end of their session, Dolly came in to collect the children. Don and Shermans waved goodbye before they were taken to the reception to meet their parents. Don practically collapsed into a chair, immediately propping his feet up on another.

"They're a fun pair, those two." He said after he'd heaved an exhausted sigh. They'd all worked hard that day, but that was nothing new. If he wasn't worn out by the time he got home, he knew he hadn't done enough that day.

"They're gonna run rings around us in filming, I know it." Bob agreed, laughing at the idea. Dick chuckled too, then added,

"They remind me of your kids." Don raised his eyebrows at him, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"They'll be reminding you of your own soon." He said. Dick's heart thudded at his words and he straightened up in his chair.

"Oh, I think it's a little early to be thinking about that." He said hurriedly. It's not that he wasn't looking forward to the idea of having children, nothing could be further from the truth.

"Oh, c'mon, Dick. You've always wanted kids." Bob chimed in, reaffirming the thoughts in his head. Dick shrugged, his fingers drumming against the arm of his seat.

"I know, I know, but I wanna enjoy things as they are. Live in the moment, you know?" He told them. "I don't wanna miss all these good things because I was too busy looking ahead." His friends seemed to understand where he was coming from, although his brother did raise an eyebrow.

"Very deep for a Tuesday afternoon." He teased over the top of his coffee mug. Dick rolled his eyes.

"Shut up." He muttered, throwing his pen at him for good measure. Bob caught the pen and used it to point at him.

"I'll put you in another headlock." He threatened, though he was grinning. Don frowned at them both.

"He got you in a headlock?"

"He surprised me!"

* * *

 "2500 grams?" Charlie muttered to herself as she read over the recipe once more. She hated baking but always forgot that she hated it until it was too late. She was covered in egg and butter, her hair was a bird's best, and she'd ruined her fiancé's birthday party. To be fair, he didn't know he was having a party, so he wouldn't be disappointed, but that was beside the point. Thankfully, Bob and Joyce were at one of their kids' recital tonight and so they'd made arrangements to come around tomorrow evening instead. She was glad Bob didn't know about her mishap, the teasing would never end. "That can't be right." She wiped a thumb over the old pages of her mother's recipe book and blew a strand of hair out of her face. Just because there wasn't going to be a party didn't mean there couldn't be cake, and Charlie had wanted at least one thing to go right for her that day so she'd persevered with her list. "Oh, 250. Yes, that's sounds much more reasonable." She murmured as she reached for the flour.

She was just in the middle of sieving it all into the large mixing bowl when the telephone rang. She swore under her breath as she tried to carefully put down everything she was holding and dash into the living room where the phone was. Charlie went to pick it up but suddenly realised her hands were coated in ingredients, so she had to quickly wipe them on the front of her apron before grabbing the phone.

"Hello?" She tried to make it sound as if she wasn't on the brink of insanity, although she wasn't sure how well it came across.

"Hello, this is Annabel from 'Party On Limited'. I understand you had an inquiry about your order?" A sweet voice answered.

"Yes, I asked if I could cancel my order, and they said to wait for a call." She'd been waiting nervously for a few hours, which hadn't helped her already throbbing headache.

"Thank you for your patience, ma'am." The woman's tone was kind, but the phone marred her voice, only aggravating Charlie more. "Let's have a look-see." She waited, foot tapping impatiently, whilst the woman checked over her logbook. "Okay, we'd be happy to cancel your order." Charlie breathed a sigh of relief and raised a hand to her forehead.

"Wonderful," She chuckled. "You know this' the first thing to go right for me today."

"No problem." Annabel chirped. Charlie had been about to say her goodbyes but for some reason, the woman kept talking. "All I need from you is the $50 severance charge." Charlotte almost dropped the telephone.

"I beg your pardon?" She asked indignantly. The poor woman on the other end of the line sounded quite nervous now, but Charlie was having a far too awful day to care.

"That's the set price of our cancellation-"

"That's ridiculous, I don't have that money to spend on bloody balloons!" The woman huffed, not liking the way she was being addressed.

"Hey, it's not my fault, hon. It's company policy." She retorted, and Charlie realised how rude she was being. She rested her head in her hand as she took a few deep breaths.

"Alright," She said eventually. "I won't cancel the order."

"Alrighty."

"What time will they arrive?"

"We have you down for three thirty." Charlie frowned and glanced down at her watch.

"But it's just gone five." She told the woman. This was also worrying as Dick would be home soon and the house was a state and nothing was ready.

"Three thirty on 14th June." Charlie very nearly ripped her hair out then.

"What? No, I need them for today!" She cried.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but you have to allow for three to five business days when ordering-"

"Alright, thank you, Annabel." Charlie interrupted her, not wanting to hear anymore bad news that day. "Thank you anyway."

* * *

The curtains were all drawn when Dick finally got home after a long day at work. From the outside, the house didn't look particularly festive. He hoped that Charlie had listened to him and the party would be minimal. Not only did he not like anyone making a fuss over him, but he was exhausted after the day he'd had and just wanted to relax. When he stepped inside, the house was quiet and none of the lights were on. This was curious, he'd expected a loud shout of 'surprise!' as soon as he entered the room. He hung up his coat and kicked off his shoes, all the while calling out to his fiancée.

"Charlie? I'm home." When he got no reply, he began to make his way down the hall. "Are you here?" He ducked his head into the kitchen and the living room, but found no one there. "Hello?" He called out as he finally entered the dining room. What he saw made his jaw go slack. The lights were low, and in their place, candles sat on every available surface, illuminating the room. The dining table was set for two and in the centre was a large dish of lasagne, his favourite. Perhaps the most wonderful thing of all was the beautiful woman standing beside the table, her hands wringing themselves as she watched him. Dick stared wide-eyed at her, his mouth still hanging open. "Charlie?" He breathed, his voice getting lost in his surprise. She smiled at him, although he could sense she was nervous for some reason.

"Hi." She said softly, raising a hand and giving him a little wave. Dick stepped further into the room and smiled at her.

"Hi." He responded, just as quietly, settling Charlie's nerves a little. She gestured to the spread on the table and the room she'd transformed.

"Happy Birthday." She broke the stunned silence, trying not to think about how disappointed he must feel. Dick gazed at her, his lips still parted in disbelief.

"Charlie." He began, but his fiancée got there faster.

"I'm sorry, it's not much." She said, feeling impossibly guilty about the whole thing. She'd tried to piece together a romantic night in for two, but it wasn't exactly a birthday party, was it? "There was going to be balloons and I was going to make a cake and all your friends were supposed to be here but I, uh..." She trailed off and Dick finally managed to overcome his shock. He shook his head and crossed the room, wrapping her in a tight hug.

"It's perfect." He murmured by her ear. Although Charlotte was very much enjoying the hug, she couldn't help but frown at his words.

"It is?" She asked, her surprise clear in her tone. Dick pulled away and took her hands in his out of habit.

"All day I've been worrying that you'd gone overboard with a huge party." He told her, beginning to laugh at the situation. Charlie twisted her lip and dropped her gaze slightly.

"That had been the plan, but a series of extremely irritating events led me here." She looked over her shoulder at their dinner, still feeling extremely bitter about the horrific day she'd had. But then Dick squeezed her hands, recapturing her attention.

"Charlotte, this is incredible." He promised, much to her surprise and delight. "Thank you." He murmured, before leaning forward and kissing her softly. Though Charlie was more than pleased with the appreciative gesture, she couldn't help but feel a little surprised.

"You're welcome." She replied quietly, beginning to smile. She thought he'd be disappointed, especially as she'd felt so crestfallen herself. She'd had all these big plans and they'd simply crumbled. She'd been worrying all day about how he would react, but it was only now that she realised how stupid she'd been. Dick had never once been angry at her, he'd never raised his voice, and he'd never been disappointed with her. He was the most wonderful man she'd ever met, how could she have thought that he would be upset? As if he'd read her mind, Dick wrapped an arm around her waist and beamed at her.

"I've got my best girl and I've got chocolate cake. What could be better?" He said brightly, kissing her again on the cheek. Charlie laughed at his words, then was suddenly reminded of something.

"Oh, speaking of, you need to blow out your candle." She said as she carefully lifted up the cake. The one she'd attempted to make had tragically burnt to a crisp while she'd been setting the table, so she'd quickly nipped around the corner to buy one from the shop. It didn't matter much, it would still taste just as good. "Make a wish." She beamed at him as she raised the cake. Dick chuckled then closed his eyes. After a second, he blew out the candle. Charlie cheered, which Dick found simply adorable. She carefully put the plate back down on the table, then looked up at her fiancé. "You really don't mind?" She asked nervously. "Are you sure you'd rather not marry me anymore." Dick's eyes flew wide open and he gawped at the woman.

"What?" He cried, finding the idea outrageous. Charlie shrugged slightly, beginning to wring her hands again.

"Well, after the day I've had, I think I'd make rather a terrible wife." She mumbled, though she was only joking really. Dick shook his head in disbelief and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him gently.

"Nothing could stop me from marrying you, Charles." He told her, soft but firm. Charlie couldn't help but smile. Oh, she was the luckiest woman in the world.

"Good." She murmured, her eyes shining. She gave him a quick kiss before unwrapping his arms from around her waist. "We better eat, the dinner's getting cold." Dick hummed as his hands found hers again.

"We could always skip dinner and go straight upstairs." He suggested, eyebrows raised to match his wicked smile. Charlie hated to ruin the mood, but she let out a loud snort and took a step back.

"Not after all the effort I've put into it." She shot back. After the day she'd had, the only thing to go right for her was the dinner. She'd be damned if she let it go to waste. Dick chuckled at her expression and pulled out a chair for her at the table.

"That's my girl." He murmured, placing a kiss at her temple before sitting down across from her. Charlie was so relieved she could hardly stand it. The last time she'd seen Dick this happy was when he'd realised he could shorten her name even further to 'Chuck', a nickname he used rarely to retain its meaningfulness. She couldn't put into words just how happy she was.

After dinner, they reclined in each other's arms on the sofa. They were both absolutely stuffed from the birthday feast and had decided to watch a late movie that was being screened on the television. Halfway through, a thought occurred to Charlie. She rested her head on Dick's shoulder and said,

"Oh, on 12th July, we're going to have a lot of people around the house." Dick frowned down at her, not entirely sure where this had come from.

"Okay..?" There was a long pause wherein neither of them said a word, but then finally, Charlie added,

"Also, rather a lot of balloons."


	27. Chapter 27

_October, 1963_

"Charlie?

"Yes, darling?"

"D'you know where I left my briefcase?

"I have no idea."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, darling."

"You haven't hidden it, have you?" Charlie rolled her eyes as she folded the newspaper she'd been trying to read. Misplacing things happened to be one of Dick's many talents, so his words weren't exactly a surprise. They'd been married for eight months now, but the little time they had in the mornings before work was never dull. Something was always lost or broken or on fire. That hadn't been such a good morning.

"Why would I do that?" Charlie called back to Dick, who was standing at the top of the stairs. There was a pause and Charlotte thought for a moment that he might not have heard her, but then he spoke.

"Because I ate the last cinnamon roll." He admitted in a meek voice. Charlie gasped and jumped up from her seat in the kitchen. She hurried down the hall until she was standing at the foot of the stairs.

"I didn't know that!" She cried, her jaw slack with outrage. Dick looked surprised for a moment but quickly recovered.

"Oh." He sighed and put a hand over his heart. "Charlotte, my darling, dearest, light of my life... I ate the last cinnamon roll." Charlie just about held back a smile.

"But it was mine!" She moaned. She'd been looking forward to her breakfast, she was absolutely starving. As if he'd read her mind, Dick said,

"I'll buy you another one." Then he disappeared from sight, going off to look for his briefcase again. Charlie sighed and leaned her back against the banister.

"I wish I  _had_  hidden it now." She muttered. She could hear her husband moving around upstairs, the floorboards creaking underfoot and the odd crash or thump as he continued his search. Eventually, he appeared back at the top of the stairs again. "Found it?" She asked, although she remained bitterly uninterested now that she knew he'd snaffled her breakfast. Dick sighed and walked down a couple of steps.

"No." He said miserably. Charlie felt guilty then, but knew she had to stay strong. Not being able to find his briefcase was not the end of the world, she could still be cross with him.

"Well, you'll have to leave it, we're going to be late." She told him. She glanced at her watch to check the time and realised that they were in fact going to be late. She'd meant it is an empty threat, but now she would actually have to get ready.

"I can't. It's got the sheet music for one of the songs Julie's doing today." Dick's words came out a little quiet as he chewed nervously on his lip. Charlie frowned up at him.

"You have copies, don't you?"

"It also has the copies in it."

"Well, you were asking for trouble then, weren't you." Dick rolled his eyes at his wife, but returned her wide grin all the same. They couldn't stay mad at each other, even if they tried. He'd been about to throw in the towel and get ready to leave, but a shift in Charlie's expression made him stop. Her eyes were suddenly wide, her skin flushed. "Oh, God." She uttered before clamping a hand over her mouth and sprinting down the hall. He heard the bathroom door slam shut and immediately hurried down the last few steps.

"Charles?" He called after her, rushing to the bathroom door. He knocked once or twice, worry rising in his chest. "Charlie?"

"I'm fine! Just-" Her reassuring reply was cut off and he could hear the easily discerned sound of her being sick. He grimaced, both out of concern and due to his weak stomach.

"Honey, this is three days in a row." He said, and despite her head being firmly wedged in the toilet, Charlie could still pick up on the clear worry in his voice. "Are you coming down with something?" He waited for a moment as she tidied herself up then took a step back when the door opened. She still looked a little pale, but she was trying to smile, mostly to reassure him.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. Just a little hot, is all." She waved off his concern, although she still wasn't feeling good. This had actually been going on a lot longer than three days, but she didn't want to worry him. She resisted the urge to lean against the doorframe and stepped out into the hall. "Perhaps I just need something to eat." Her stomach churned at the thought but she forced a smile. "Although, you did eat my breakfast, so I'll have to get something at work." Dick looked guilty for a brief moment, before his expression returned to uneasiness.

"Are you sure you want to go in today?" He asked her in a quiet voice. He reached up and pressed the back of his hand to her forehead, checking her temperature. She didn't feel particularly warm, but he remained concerned. "You should stay home if you're feeling bad." Charlie smiled up at him. He was so sweet, she thanked her lucky stars every day. He often worried about her, especially if she was feeling ill, but she always tried to put his fears to rest, even if she was feeling under the weather.

"I'll feel better once I've had some fresh air." She reassured him. Charlie leaned forward and kissed his cheek before taking his hands in hers. "Come on." She said, squeezing his hands before leaving him in the hall to gather her things. They'd perfected their morning routine fairly quickly, so they were hardly ever later. They weren't exactly star employees, but they did their best. Charlie hooked her bag over her shoulder then grabbed her keys and opened the front door. October in Los Angeles was fairly warm, but she still felt a shudder as a brisk wind swept over her. She felt a little nervous herself, but she'd never admit it, especially not to her husband. The thought of going to see a doctor hadn't even been allowed to cross her mind, she hated them and hospitals with a passion. She would just weather the storm until it passed, so to speak. She heard footsteps behind her and walked down the front steps so that Dick could shut the door behind him.

"Okay, let's go." He said, walking past her to the gate. Charlotte smiled fondly at her husband, then stopped in her tracks when she noticed something was missing.

"Shoes, darling." She called after him. Dick stopped, paused, looked down at his socked feet, then sighed. He turned on the spot, digging out his keys from his pocket whilst Charlie laughed.

* * *

"Hello!" Charlie winced slightly at the loud greeting her friend gave her as soon as she stepped through the door.

"Hi, SJ." She replied quietly. She was still feeling nauseous, but she knew it would soon wear off. She couldn't miss a whole day of work just because she was feeling a little sick, especially as they'd been so busy recently. Sarahjane pulled a face at her, her bright smile disappearing.

"Oo, you don't look so good." She said, which Charlotte couldn't help but find a little unsympathetic. She took a small step back as Charlie passed her, which also didn't make her feel any better. "You're all shiny." She added. Charlie knew she must look a state, but she was far too concerned with finding a comfortable place to sit to worry about her appearance.

"It's the sweat." She told her grimly. Sarahjane frowned, her perfect eyebrows drawing together.

"But it's cold outside." She glanced towards the window to see if the weather had changed since she'd last looked. But no, the sky was still a dull grey and a strong wind was shaking the bare trees. Charlie grunted as she dropped into a chair.

"Well, you'd be sweaty too if you'd been throwing up all morning." She muttered bitterly. She hated being ill, especially when she had a mountain of work to get through. She liked to keep busy and she loved her job, so any obstacle that kept her from it was extremely aggravating.

"Ew. Did not need to hear that." Sarahjane grimaced, raising her hands to stop her from saying anymore. Charlie crossed her arms on the table then rested her head on top.

"Sorry." Sarahjane heard her say, though she didn't sound particularly apologetic. SJ sighed heavily and sat down across from her, though she made sure to keep her distance just in case whatever Charlie had was infectious.

"You should be at home." She told her. If she was at home, she could get better and it also meant that she wouldn't be anywhere near her. But Charlie raised her head, forcing her eyes to stay open.

"No, I'll feel better in a minute. Just let me sit down for a bit." She waved off her concern, although it look like it took a lot of effort to do so. She looked pensive for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly. "You smell nice." Charlie said eventually once she realised what was different about her friend. Sarahjane perked up then.

"Thanks, it's my new perfume." She said brightly. Charlie's frown only deepened.

"You don't wear perfume." She said, her tone heavy with suspicion. Sarahjane never wore make up and she certainly never bothered with perfume. She didn't see the point in either of them, and anyway, she couldn't be bothered to put it all on in the morning. So what had changed?

"I'll have you know I always carry a bottle around in my purse for emergencies." Sarahjane said, feigning innocence. The change of conversation topic was making Charlie feel a little better, so she pursued it eagerly.

"What's the emergency?" She raised her eyebrows when Sarahjane suddenly looked sheepish.

"Well..." She began, a grin sliding onto her face. She was interrupted by the door to their room opening. They both looked around to see a man in the doorway. Charlie had never seen him before, but he seemed to know Sarahjane.

"They're nice fellas, ain't they?" He said happily, walking into the room to meet her friend. He jumped when he spotted Charlie, but was quick to smile at her warmly. "Oh, hi there."

"Hello." She replied, raising a hand to match her greeting. He must've been six foot at least, with a mop of brown hair and kind brown eyes. She glanced at Sarahjane, who was suddenly looking very happy indeed.

"Charlie, this is Brad. He's just got a job down the hall." She introduced the stranger. "Brad, this is Charlie, the girl I was tellin' you about." The man smiled at her and reached forward to shake her hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am." He said politely. Charlie would've stood up, but she'd probably throw up on him if she did and that would not make a good first impression. Not that things were perfect as they were. She was all sweaty and bedraggled, but he was doing a very good job of pretending he hadn't noticed.

"It's nice to meet you." She replied, returning his smile as best as she could under the circumstances. "I didn't realise we were getting a new animator."

"Well, Tommy retired two weeks ago." Sarahjane reminded her.

"Oh, yes." Tom Buchanan was one of the oldest employees in the company, but he'd chosen to retire at the ripe old age of sixty and last week they'd had a small party for him. Charlotte hadn't really known him all that well, but the few times they'd spoke, he'd been a kind and funny man.

"I took his place, I suppose." Brad said, smiling awkwardly. He looked a little nervous. "Big shoes to fill." Sarahjane took the opportunity to rest a hand on his broad shoulder, although it was quite the reach. SJ was not a small woman, she was a good few inches taller than Charlie, but even she had to stretch to give him a comforting pat.

"Don't worry, you'll do just fine." She told him, batting her eyelashes for good measure. Charlie rolled her eyes at her friend but quickly hid her exasperation when Brad looked back at her.

"I thought I'd come around and meet everyone. Ya know, get a feel of the place." He explained. The 'fellas' he had mentioned must be the other animators next door. She wished she could've seen the look on Sarahjane's face when he came through the door. Although, it probably looked very similar to the lovestruck expression she wore at that moment.

"I'll walk you back to your office." Her friend offered, taking him by the arm and leading him to the door. He waved to Charlie just before they left and she waved back, chuckling a little at his sweetness. She finally felt a little better, so she made herself useful. She'd just managed to find all her work when Sarahjane came back in. Her friend leaned against the door, her eyes closed. "Charlie, I do believe I'm in love." She sighed. Charlotte raised her eyebrows and settled back into her seat.

"After all of ten minutes? Blimey." She muttered. She didn't really believe in love at first sight. Although, it had taken her half a year to realise she was in love with Dick, so perhaps she didn't know all that much about it. Sarahjane sighed again as she practically floated across the room, her smile seemed to be fixed in place.

"Well, actually, before you came in, we'd been chattin' for a little while." She admitted. Charlie looked up from her work, her smile turning pointed.

"Oh, yes?" She asked, making Sarahjane blush, which was unusual for her. She was unflappable, nothing could get her flustered. Nothing, it appeared, apart from tall, handsome men with nice smiles.

"He's the most wonderful man. And so handsome, don't you think?" She gushed, twirling around the room as if she were walking on air. Which, Charlie realised with a smile, is probably exactly how she felt.

"He sounds just like you." She pointed out. Sarahjane stopped spinning to snort derisively at her words.

"Oh, no, silly, we sound nothin' alike!" She said it as if she'd said something completely stupid. "He's from North Carolina." Charlotte resisted a shrug. Southerners all sounded the same to her, she hadn't lived there long enough to pick apart all the accents. She chuckled and looked down at her work again.

"Well, wherever he's from, I'm sure he's lovely." She assured her, making Sarahjane give an uncharacteristic giggle. Charlie beamed at her friend. She was so glad she'd met someone. Now that she'd found love, she wanted everyone to experience the rush. But there was a time and a place. "C'mon, let's get to work." She told her, trying to pull SJ down from cloud nine. She hated to be the harsh bite of reality, but her friend could swoon over her new co-worker anytime. "Unless, of course, you want to dance around a bit more?" Sarahjane did stop twirling, but she didn't move to sit down.

"Oh, come on. I bet you were a nuisance too after you met Dick." She teased, her hands planted firmly on her hips. Charlie raised her eyebrows.

"Actually, no." She shot back. "I'm proud to say I handled the situation very professionally." Well, that was mostly true. Not once had she danced around, feeling far too giddy to concentrate on anything else. At least, not at work. Her hotel room, on the other hand, had been the stage for all her compressed feelings, and she had, on one occasion, danced as if she were waltzing with Dick. But she was far too proud to admit that.

"Nonsense." Sarahjane said firmly, sussing her out in an instant as was so often her way. "He's so funny and kind." She went on, swapping conversations so quickly it made Charlie dizzy. "He has nice eyes, don't you think? And you know, he plays the guitar?"

"He sounds perfect." Charlie said, although her voice was hollow. She'd stopped listening properly a while ago.

"That he is." Sarahjane agreed, not noticing that she'd lost her audience. She finally say down at the table and propped her chin up on her hand. She smiled to herself for a moment before saying, "I'm gonna marry him, Charlotte."

"I wait in unbearable anticipation for my invitation." Charlie replied drily, not looking up from her work. Sarahjane ignored her sardonic tone and continued to plan the imaginary ceremony.

"Well, you'll be up at the front as one of my bridesmaids." She reasoned. "I'm thinking of a spring wedding." Charlotte finally sat back in her chair, laughing so loudly she thought they must've heard her next door. Her best friend was unbelievable, but somehow, she always managed to make her feel better.

"You are absolutely ridiculous." She told her fondly after her laughter had subsided. But then her stomach clenched in that all too familiar way and her smile disappeared. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting out a quiet groan as nausea began to rise in her throat again. Sarahjane leaned back, trying to get as far away as possible without having to leave her chair.

"Actually," She went on. "You're not invited. I'm worried you're gonna puke all over the congregation." She eyed Charlie warily, waiting for her friend to open her eyes again. Finally, the sick feeling diminished, though it didn't disappear entirely.

"I'm fine." Charlie insisted, raising a hand to keep her at bay, though SJ didn't need much persuading to keep her distance. "Just a little..." She gestured ineffectually, but Sarahjane seemed to get what she meant.

"Well, if it gets worse, tell me." She said firmly, which Charlie thought was very kind of her. Little did she know that half the motive behind her words was that this way, SJ got an early warning so she could vacate the area.

Across the lot, Dick was still concerned about Charlie. He knew that she was hiding something. She didn't like to tell him when something was wrong with her because she didn't want him to worry, but he did it anyway. He was good at worrying, and he'd certainly had a lot of practice. Charlie had been acting strangely over the last few days. At first he'd wondered if he'd done something wrong, but they were both very open with each other. They both thought that hiding their feelings was childish, so if something was bothering them, they'd share it. They seldom fought, but naturally they had their little quarrels. That brought a smile to his face.

The last time one of them had been angry was when Charlie had unwittingly gone to work with a series of love bites down her neck. It had taken all day for someone to point it out to her. That person had been Don, who'd been so completely beside himself with embarrassment that he hadn't done a very good job of explaining the issue. The trouble was, he'd referred to them as hickeys, and so Charlotte hadn't any idea what he was talking about. She wasn't all that bothered by it. That was until more people started noticing. Oh, he'd been in big trouble that day.

But this was different. If she was ill, he wanted to take care of her, no matter how she resisted. He didn't like being kept in the dark but he also didn't want to push her. He would just have to wait until she was ready to share what was bothering her. His brother caught his attention and they got back to work, but his wife's secrecy was stuck in the back of his mind.

"So, are you excited about Christmas?" Charlotte and Sarahjane were sat on two tables opposite each other, a cup of tea in their hands. They were on lunch break but couldn't be bothered to go outside to find food, so they'd found two mugs and some teabags and settled down for a nice chat.

"It's October, SJ." Charlie replied, confused as to why her friend was already asking her about the holidays. Sarahjane shrugged,

"I know, but I like to get these things out of the way quickly so I can relax." She explained. "I already know what I'm getting you." Charlie smiled into her mug. She was so lucky to have such a caring friend, although she did make her feel terribly guilty.

"Well, I usually don't start thinking about presents until December." She admitted, which seemed to shock her friend.

"Oh, Lord, that's so late." She gasped, a hand clutched dramatically to her chest. Charlotte laughed at her actions, though she had to be careful not to spill her tea. Sarahjane raised an eyebrow. "What about Dick, you must know what you're getting him." She insisted.

"I hadn't thought about it." Sarahjane looked contemplative, and Charlie couldn't understand why she was so shocked that she hadn't thought of anything when Christmas was two months away.

"That's strange. My momma always knows what she's gettin' daddy by now." Sarahjane told her, and she was beginning to make Charlie feel a little nervous. "Actually," She realised. "Most people I know have already bought presents for their spouses." Charlie lowered her mug and stared at her friend.

"Really?" She asked, her eyes wide. She never bought any presents until late December, but then again, she had a lot more loved ones now. Perhaps she should already be thinking about what to get them all.

"Oh, yes." Sarahjane went on, not seeming to have noticed how shocked her friend looked. She paused, her eyes narrowed slightly. "You really haven't thought about it?" She checked. Charlie shook her head.

"Well, no." She wasn't sure why, but the look SJ was giving her was making her feel guilty. Sarahjane shrugged slightly and sipped her tea.

"Well, you should start." She suggested, echoing what Charlie had just decided for herself. "It needs to be good." Charlie wasn't sure why SJ looked so surprised, she didn't think that she was the strange one here. Or perhaps she was. Perhaps this was an American thing and she was miles behind everyone else. What if Dick had already planned his gift for her in minute detail and here she was with absolutely nothing? For the second time that day, she was consumed with worry. She turned her gaze back to Sarahjane.

"This is terrible." She murmured, sounding just as horrified as she felt.

"Not, really."

"What am I going to do?"

"You could stop being so overdramatic?"

"This is the worst day of my life."

"I thought you British chicks were meant to be all calm and poised."

"Why can't I think of a single gift? He's my husband and I can't think of a single thing to get him."

"I can think of one thing you could give him." That snapped Charlie out of her panic. She levelled her friend with a withering look.

"Sarahjane." She muttered, shaking her head in disappointment. Her friend wasn't deterred by her disdainful tone. She drummed her fingernails against the table as she smiled mischievously.

"That can be your back up plan then." She shrugged and Charlie scoffed, not dignifying her insinuation with a response. Sarahjane clicked her tongue, she couldn't understand why Charlie wouldn't take any of her ideas. It was like she didn't appreciate her help. "Just get him a watch! Men like watches." She suggested, flapping her hand carelessly. Charlie nodded a little, that was a much better suggestion. But Dick wore his grandfather's watch, she didn't want to replace it. She told Sarahjane this and she hummed, looking pensive once more. "How about a new radio? Or food, everyone likes food." At this, Charlotte's stomach began to churn again and she grimaced at her friend.

"Oh, don't mention food." She begged, her voice growing faint towards the end of her plea as another bout of nausea set in. Sarahjane's eyes grew wide as Charlie groaned, her head falling into her hands as if it were too heavy to hold up.

"It's getting worse, isn't it?" The blonde said, though she wasn't really asking. Charlotte let out another groan and Sarahjane rolled her eyes. "Oh, Lord." She muttered to herself as she got up. She rounded the table and put her arm around her friend's shoulders. "Come with me." Her stiff tone didn't match her caring gesture, but Charlie didn't like to argue with her, or more specifically, she couldn't in her state. She let her friend pull her out of her chair and guide her to the door before she asked.

"Where're we going?" Her words came out a little slurred, all her attention was focused on trying not to be sick. Sarahjane yanked open the door then gently conducted her down the corridor.

"To find Dick." She explained, and Charlotte realised she was trying to lead her towards the stairs.

"What? No!" Despite her dizziness, she dug in her heels and managed to halt SJ's military-like march. Her friend stared at her like she was mad, which was quite difficult seeing as she was still supporting Charlie's weight and their heads were right by each other. "He can't know, he'll just fuss over nothing." Charlie mumbled, squeezing her eyes shut to try and stave off her queasiness.

"Hi." Her eyes flew open again at the new voice and she frowned quizzically at Sarahjane, who was staring at whoever it was that was behind them.

"Hey, Brad." SJ breathed, immediately adopting her signature sultry smile. Charlie began to roll her eyes, but stopped to save herself the misery of more light-headedness. Brad finally managed to tear his gaze away from Sarahjane and noticed her friend doubled over beside her.

"What's the matter?" He asked curiously, gesturing to Charlie. He looked a little nervous as he studied the artist, who was still groaning quietly, much to SJ's amusement.

"Charlie's feelin' a little under the weather, I'm helping her to the ladies'." The blonde explained, coming up with a quick excuse for why her co-worker was bent double with an arm slung around her shoulder. Luckily for her, Brad wasn't the type to pry and he looked sympathetic.

"Wow, you're lucky to have such a good friend, Charlotte." He told the artist, making Sarahjane beam with pride. If Charlotte hadn't been feeling so awful, she would've laughed. There she was, clutching her stomach and clinging onto her friend for dear life, and Brad only had eyes for Sarahjane. Typical.

"You know, I really am a good friend." The blonde agreed, smiling flirtatiously up at the man. Though Charlie was staring at the floor, she could feel her friend shift her weight onto one leg so that her hip jutted out. Sarahjane made sure to swish her long, blonde hair as she tilted her head to the side. "I've always thought of myself as a good listener. I'm very intuitive. You know, it's like my momma always said-"

"SJ." Charlotte croaked, reminding Sarahjane of the severity of their situation. Charlie was a ticking time bomb, they couldn't stand around and chat, even if it was to handsome men.

"Okay, well, I'll see you around." SJ said quickly, giving Brad a delicate, little wave. The man gave her a ridiculously charming half-smile and nodded his head in acknowledgment.

"See ya, sweetheart." He said, before he waved and walked off towards his new office. Sarahjane watched him leave, her bright blue eyes travelling shamelessly over his body. Then Charlotte swore under her breath and she got her head back in the present. She repositioned Charlie's arm around her shoulder then continued their path to the stairs.

"Could you please refrain from flirting when I'm about to throw up?" She heard her friend grumble. How was it that she still managed to tell her off even in her state? But Sarahjane was far too happy to care about that now.

"Did you hear that?" She gushed, squeezing Charlie's hand in excitement. "He called me sweetheart." Charlotte would've tutted or perhaps even congratulated her best friend if she hadn't felt like she was on a lurching ship in the middle of the sea. Through her sickness, she realised that they were headed towards the stairs again.

"Please don't take me to Dick, I don't want him to know." She moaned, feeling too weak to fight her again. Sarahjane did pity her friend, but she knew that Charlie needed help. She carefully led her down the stairs and across the lot, all the while offering words of encouragement and rubbing circles on her back in what she hoped was a soothing gesture.

"Well, if you don't want to tell Dick, we need the next best thing." She said, taking to the chore with an unusual amount of pragmatism. Sarahjane smiled brightly at anyone who looked their way, not bothering to answer the frequent questions about Charlie's state. She ignored anyone who stared, her mind set on finding someone who could help. Finally, she spotted him. They'd just passed through Reception, thankfully Dolly hadn't been there. She was a lovely woman, but SJ didn't think she could stand the sheer volume of questions she would throw her way, especially as she was still half-supporting Charlie. She spotted her man on his way to the rehearsal room, her worry about not knowing what to do diminishing as she had an idea. "Bingo!" Charlie heard her mutter, but she was too ill to make fun of her for it. "Bob! The musician stopped in his tracks and span around to see who had called his name so suddenly. He grinned when he saw Charlie and her friend.

"Hey, guys." He began to walk towards them, but slowed when he saw how sickly his sister-in-law looked. "Woah, Charlie, you don't look so good." He told her as if she didn't already know. Her skin was all shiny and her hair was damp at her temples. Her face had a slightly terrible green tinge to it and he wrinkled his nose. Charlie gave him a weak smile.

"Cheers." She muttered, and he realised his mistake. Before he could splutter through an apology, Sarahjane cut in. Time was of the essence, she couldn't wait around forever, especially as Charlie was getting rather heavy.

"We were talking about what to get your brother for Christmas." She began to explain the situation, but Bob cut in.

"Any ideas yet?" He asked quickly. He always had trouble thinking of presents, if they'd had any ideas, he wanted to know. Charlie frowned at him, then looked around at her best friend dubiously. She'd expected her to wear the same expression, but instead of them both being cross with Bob for changing the subject, Sarahjane was smiling back at him.

"I had a pretty good one." She teased, and Charlie's eyes widened. She began to shake her head, but Bob looked interested.

"What was that?" He asked, and Charlie suddenly felt an awful lot better.

"No, she didn't. She didn't have a good idea." She insisted as she attempted to straighten up. She managed to get upright, but she still needed to lean against SJ, but thankfully, the blonde held her tight. Sensing how bad Charlie was feeling, SJ decided to stop playing around.

"Well, anyway, I think you need to take Charlie to the doctor, she's not feeling well at all." She told Bob, who instantly stopped smiling. He frowned at her, worry creasing his forehead.

"Are you feeling sick again?" He asked. Dick had told him and Don about how terrible Charlie had felt that morning, but his brother had said she was feeling better now. Looking at Charlie, that clearly wasn't the case. "I'll drive you to doctor."

"Would you? Oh, thank you Bob." SJ breathed, immediately passing her friend to the musician. Charlie let Bob wrap an arm around her, helping her stay on her feet. Although, just knowing that she was going to be taken care off made Charlie feel a hundred times better. She could feel her anxiety slipping away and her nausea beginning to diminish. She was very glad that she wasn't going to pass out at work in front of everyone, SJ was just glad to get her off her shoulders.

"Don't tell Dick about this, I don't want him to worry." Charlie muttered to her friend as Bob began to lead her back the way they'd come.

"My lips are sealed." The blonde promised, giving her a conspiratorial wink. Sarahjane walked with them through Reception then outside, but stayed there in the lot, leaving Bob to guide Charlie to his car. Although she was worried for her friend and she hoped that she felt better, Sarahjane couldn't help but tease her one last time before she left. "Remember that other thing, okay!" Despite her swimming head, Charlie let out a laugh and called back to her.

"Shut up, Sarahjane!"

"It's always worked wonders for me!"

"Goodbye, Sarahjane!"

* * *

Although she was impossibly grateful, Charlie wished they hadn't run into Bob. It was very kind of him to take time off work to drive her to the nearest hospital, but that didn't make the experience any less tortuous. Charlie had always abhorred hospitals and doctors and waiting rooms and the clinical stench of the bleached white walls. It was all too much, but she tried not to think about it as her brother-in-law walked her down the corridors to the room they'd been directed to. She needed a professional consultation, she just wished there were another way of doing it.

They were both seated when the doctor came in. It was a simple little square room, with a bed and a screening curtain and other little curiosities one would usually find in a doctor's practice. Bob had waited outside whilst Charlie had her tests, and now they were both waiting patiently for the results. Bob had tried to console his friend, he knew all about her fear, but he knew that it was better to just let her relax on her own time. He looked around when the door swung open and a cheery little man came in. He looked like every other doctor he'd even seen: long white coat, a stethoscope around his neck, round black glasses, but he seemed friendly and his bright personality was a stark contrast to the somewhat bleak room.

"Okay, good afternoon!" He greeted them, shutting the door behind them. Charlie gave him a weak smile, trying to be brave and ignore her nerves. Thankfully, Bob answered for them both.

"Afternoon, Doctor." He replied, shaking the man's hand. Charlie apologised for not standing but the doctor understood. He sat down on a chair across from them and looked through the clipboard he'd just been handed by the nurse.

"It's good to meet ya. How long have you been married?" He asked, knowing that a little light small talk was the best way to relax nervous patients such as the woman before him. He'd sensed her uneasiness, and wanted her to know she had nothing to fear from him.

"Oh, we're not married." Bob explained quickly, and Charlie gave a little laugh.

"No, he's my brother-in-law." She added, and the doctor chuckled himself.

"Oh, sorry about that." He finished looking through his notes then raised his eyebrows at the artist. "Mrs. Sherman, would you like your brother-in-law to step outside?" He asked her gently, and Charlie appreciated his thoughtfulness. Bob too looked around at her expectantly, happy to leave if she wanted, but Charlie shook her head.

"It's alright. Anything you have to say to me, you can say in front of Bob." She assured the doctor, surprising even herself with her confidence. It couldn't be anything terrifically bad, she didn't feel nearly ill enough for anything so drastic. She would have a bug, he would give her some medicine, in a few weeks she would be better. Although, despite her certainty that everything was going to be just fine, she did reach out and take Bob's hand and squeezed it tight.

"Okie dokie." The doctor said, happy that she was comfortable. Clearly she couldn't be seriously ill if he was so relaxed, so Charlie tried not to worry too much. The doctor sat back in his chair and took off his glasses. "Now, I've been looking over the results of your tests and I think I have some good news for you." Charlie raised her eyebrows. She'd known it wouldn't be bad, she hadn't expected good news. What could that possibly mean?

"Oh?" She asked and the doctor began to smile.

"Mrs. Sherman, you're pregnant." Charlie's confused expression slowly melted away and she gawked blankly at the man. She felt frozen, like her arms and legs were too heavy to move.

"Pardon?" She breathed, certain that somehow she must have misheard the doctor. The older man began to chuckle at the expression on her face, but not in a cruel way. He'd told thousands of women the same thing, and they always had the same look on their faces when he gave them the news.

"You're six weeks gone." He told her, looking back at his notes. "That's why you've been feeling so bad. Morning sickness. And the fatigue and changes in your appetite that you talked about are all early signs of pregnancy." Charlie shook her head slightly. This was not the news she'd expected at all. The thought had never crossed her mind, which she could now see was a little stupid of her.

"I'm... I'm going to have a baby?" She repeated, making sure that she had his news completely straight. Beside her, she could see Bob looked just as shocked as she felt. The doctor beamed at her.

"Yes, ma'am." He confirmed for her. Charlie's lips were parted, and she tried to think of something to say in response, but her mind had gone blank. She made a few attempts to reply, but all that would come out were a few astounded noises before she finally began to laugh.

"Oh, my God." She breathed, her slack jaw replaced by an ecstatic grin. "Oh, my God!" The doctor raised his eyebrows at her.

"It's good news then, I take it." He joked, pleased by the elated look on his patient's face. Charlie shook her head in disbelief and got up from her seat.

"Yes! Oh, my." She felt so full of energy and spirit, she felt like she could fly. She no longer felt sick and she was no longer afraid of the hospital or the doctor sat in front of her. She looked down at Bob, who was also smiling widely. "Thank you, Doctor." She told the man, not so jubilant that she forgot her manners. The old doctor stood up from his seat and took her hands in his.

"It's no problem." He told her, giving her a bright smile. Charlie squeezed his hands back before grabbing Bob into a tight hug. He laughed and hugged her back, just as happy for his brother and his wife as Charlie was. The doctor gave her some advice about how to proceed then sent them away with something for the morning sickness and a pleased smile. Charlie walked out of the hospital in a daze. She still couldn't believe that it was true. She was going to have a baby. Sure, she and Dick had talked about having children someday, but she hadn't thought it was happen so quickly. Not that she was upset with the news, she was beside herself with joy. They stood next to the car, not wanting to get in just yet when they still felt so euphoric. Bob pulled his sister-in-law into another hug, still laughing simply because he was so happy for his friend.

"Congratulations, Charlie." He told her, then asked, "When are you going to tell Dick?" Charlie pulled away and crossed her arms. She chewed her lip as thought about his question. She wanted to tell him right that instant, but then she also wanted to wait until later. She didn't feel like going back into work, she was far too excited and it was nearly the end of the day anyway.

"Tonight." She decided, though it was a difficult decision to make. She desperately wanted to run to the nearest telephone box and tell him the news right away, but it would be better to wait until later when they were alone. "I don't know if I'll be able to keep it to myself all day." She added, and Bob chuckled.

"I'm so pleased for you." He said. He felt on top of the world, he couldn't imagine how Charlie must be feeling. Although, he had a pretty good idea. She probably felt the same way he had when Joyce had come home one day and told him the same news. It felt like only yesterday that Charlie had walked into the music room for the first time and introduced herself. He'd known instantly that his brother liked her, he'd never imagined that two years later they'd be standing in the hospital car park, revelling in the news of Charlie's pregnancy. "I'm gonna be an Uncle." He realised, making Charlie smile. He would be a terrific uncle if his fathering skills were anything to go by. She was glad her child, whoever they turned out to be, had such a caring and wonderful family. "Come on, I'll take you home."

* * *

The wait was excruciating. Charlie had instantly regretted it the minute she stepped through the door to their house. It would still be a little while until Dick same home, and she would have to keep herself occupied and away from the telephone in the meantime. But she resisted, and when Dick finally walked through the door just after five o'clock, she sprang from her chair. She felt like she might burst with excitement, but she tried to remain cool and collected. When Dick walked through the kitchen door, she smiled at him, but he only looked concerned.

"Hey, are you okay?" He rushed up to her and put his hands on her shoulders, quickly looking her up and down. She laughed a little, he was just as worried as she'd thought he would be.

"I'm fine." She reassured him, taking his hand in hers. But Dick's worried expression didn't change and she felt a little guilty for laughing at him.

"Sarahjane told me Bob had to take you to the doctor. Did you feel worse?" He asked, his voice low and quiet. That traitor, Charlie thought. But then, she supposed it had been a good idea to tell him after all. He probably would have been even more worried if Sarahjane hadn't given it away. "You should've told me, I'd have taken you." He murmured, his eyes still darting over her face, trying to gauge how she was feeling. "I've been worried sick all day." Charlie smiled softly at her adoring husband and was once again ridiculously thankful that she'd met him. Dick saw her smile and his frown deepened. "What? What's the matter, why're you looking at me like that? Is something wrong?" Charlie realised she still hadn't said anything to dispel his anxieties so she squeezed his hands and said,

"No, no, I'm fine but... You might want to sit down." Dick looked at her curiously but she remained stoic. Charlie led him over the kitchen table and sat him down then took the chair next to his. Dick felt like his stomach was twisted into a thousand knots.

"Charlie?" He asked, trying not to let his voice waver. Why wasn't she saying anything? Why had she been rushed to hospital? Why was she looking at him like that? An inestimable number of thoughts buzzed around inside his head but he refrained from asking any of them, waiting for Charlie to tell him what was wrong. The artist took a deep breath and met his gaze, his hands still held carefully in her own.

"I'm not sure how you'll feel about this and I'm quite nervous, so..." She began, but she lost steam when she couldn't think of anything else to add. "Um, I'm not really sure how to do this so I think I will just... Say it." She decided, and Dick nodded uncertainly. She'd never done anything like this before, she didn't know how to break such big news, so she thought simplicity was the best way forward. Charlie cleared her throat and held her husband's gaze. "Richard Sherman..." She said, the tiniest of smiles on her lips. "You're going to be a father." Charlie realised the shocked expression on Dick's face must have been identical to one she'd worn when she'd received the news. No wonder the doctor had laughed. Dick gawped at her, all his terrible thoughts about what might be wrong with his wife gone in an instant.

"What?" He breathed, his voice evading him. Charlie grinned at him, knowing that his stunned silence was a happy one.

"I'm pregnant. You're going to be a dad." She reiterated, beginning to laugh simply because she was so happy. She'd been waiting all day to tell him and now she could finally see the look on his face, the wait had definitely been worth it. Dick stared at her, then dropped his gaze to her stomach, then looked back up at her.

"I'm... I mean, you're..." He pointed to her stomach which in a few weeks would start to grow. Charlie nodded, unable to stop smiling even if she'd wanted to. Dick suddenly let out an ecstatic cry and threw his arms around her waist. "Oh, my God!" He lifted Charlie out of her seat and span her around and around whilst she squealed in delight. He finally put her down and pulled her tight against him.

"You're pleased then?" Charlie managed to get out, despite Dick's arms being wrapped around her so tight she almost couldn't breathe. Dick was still laughing madly but he did manage to reply.

"Charlie, this is the best day of my life!" He told her, much to Charlie's delight. He finally let her go, but his hands stayed on her hips, keeping her close. "How could you possibly even begin to think that I wouldn't be happy about this?" He asked, shaking his head slightly. Charlie wasn't sure either, she hadn't known how long Dick would to wait until they had children. Apparently, he didn't want to wait at all.

"I don't know, but I'm glad I was wrong." She said honestly, and Dick shook his head again. He was so shocked, he hadn't expected such wonderful news. He'd expected the worst, it was fantastic to hear the best news he could've gotten. He wasted no more time and kissed his wife, hard and passionate, expressing all that words couldn't say.

"Oh, beautiful, incredible, wonderful woman." He murmured against her lips, making Charlie smile. He pressed his forehead against hers and ran his hands down her sides, one staying on her hip, the other resting on her stomach. "You're going to have a baby." He whispered. He looked back up at her, his eyes shining. "And I'm going to be a dad." Charlie's heart swelled at his words and at the pure joy in his face.

"You're going to be a dad." She repeated back to him. "The best dad in the whole wide world." Dick grinned at her, feeling so happy he thought he might burst.

"I love you. So much." He murmured, kissing her again.

"I love you too."

It was quickly decided that they should go out and celebrate the wonderful news. Charlie put on her best dress and Dick wore his nicest shirt and they prepared to paint the town red. Charlie was sitting at her dresser, finishing her make-up. She felt on top of the world. She had a wonderful husband, a fantastic job, a beautiful home and a baby on the way. She'd come to America expecting an adventure. She'd never once thought that her life would become the adventure and she'd find everything she'd never thought it would be possible for her to have. Although, there was something that wasn't quite right. One final piece was yet to fall into place. Mrs. Travers. Though Charlie was contented, she felt guilty knowing that the author was so unhappy. Charlie put down her lipstick and studied her reflection in the mirror.

The older woman had not enjoyed her time in America in the slightest. They'd taken her beloved work and though they'd listen to everything she'd had to say, when it came down to it, they hadn't treated her properly. Mary Poppins seemed to be all that Mrs. Travers had, and now she had to watch them twist it, shape it in their own way. It wasn't fair on the poor woman, no wonder she had acted so curmudgeonly all the way through her time there. But she'd given them the rights anyway. Don and the brothers had told her this soon after she'd arrived back in Los Angeles. They couldn't understand why she would actually give them the rights to make the film after all they'd been through. Perhaps it was curiosity, or because she needed someone to talk to who wasn't Dick, but she reached for her drawer and pulled out a slip of paper with the author's telephone number on it. Dolly had let her have it after much persuasion. She hadn't known why at the time, but Charlie wanted to have some way of contacting the author, just in case. Now seemed as good a time as any. Without another thought, afraid that she'd change her mind, Charlie crossed the room to the telephone beside the bed and dialled the number Dolly had scribbled down for her. She listened intently for a few moments as the phone rang and then she heard a familiar voice.

"Mrs. Travers?" She asked tentatively, suddenly feeling very nervous.

"Yes, this is she." The author replied curtly. Mrs. Travers never liked telephone conversation, much preferring a face to face interaction or a letter, but Charlie preserved. It was too late to turn back now.

"It's Charlotte." She told the woman, who she heard give a sharp intake of breath.

"Charlotte?" The artist couldn't be certain whether she was pleased to hear from her or not. "This is unexpected."

"I know, I'm sorry-"

"There's no need to apologise." Mrs. Travers cut her off quickly. She and Charlie had always gotten along reasonably well, better than she had expected, but that didn't mean they were friends. She hardly knew anything about the author and tried to keep her voice from wavering as she spoke to her. "Was there something you wanted, or is this a personal call?" Charlie almost laughed at her question. She had no idea why she'd called. What could she possibly get out of it? Confirmation of her worries? That certainly wouldn't make her feel any better. But just hearing the older woman's voice again stirred up something inside of her that fuelled her words.

"I realised I hadn't spoken to you about your decision." She said suddenly, which was true. She wanted to know why the author had given over the rights after all the flack she'd given them. But she couldn't ask her that outright, so she went on. "I suppose I wanted to thank you." Mrs. Travers sniffed, dismissing her gratitude quickly. Charlie wasn't surprised by this, but she'd wanted the author to at least her it from someone, she wanted her to know just how grateful they were for all that she'd given them

"You went back then." The author asked. She hadn't expected Mrs. Travers to ask her anything in return. She was suddenly reminded of the conversation they'd had a few days after the author had arrived. They had stood in Charlie's old office, looking over a few of her illustrations. The author had been uncharacteristically cordial with her, especially since she'd just given the brothers and Don a good hiding. They'd talked about Charlie and why she'd come to America. She'd forgotten that Mrs. Travers could be pleasant when she wanted to be. She supposed her view of the woman had been tainted by the last impression she'd given them.

"Yes. About a two years ago now." She told her, smiling slightly. They had been full, eventful years, punctuated by the news she'd received today, but how quickly had it all gone by.

"Gosh." Mrs. Travers said, clearly thinking along the same lines. Charlie chewed her lip for a moment. They'd been talking a lot more civilly than she'd anticipated, so perhaps she could ask the question she'd been dying to hear the answer to.

"I hope I'm not being forward when I ask what made you change your mind." She said cautiously, testing the waters. Mrs. Travers hummed to herself and if Charlie hadn't known her better, she's have thought she'd heard her laugh a little.

"He came to my house. Outrageous. He told me a story." The author told her, her voice growing distant as she recalled that fateful, so long ago now. Charlie realised she must have been talking about Mr. Disney. Of course, he'd visited her on the same night, but she had never learned of what had transpired between him and the author. "I always did love a good story." She added softly, and Charlie felt her heart sink.

"You could always come back too." She suggested, though she was perhaps getting ahead of herself. As if she'd heard her thoughts, Mrs. Travers quickly said,

"I don't think so." Charlie nodded, she'd clearly pushed her luck. There was a pause and Charlie decided that meant they'd reached the end of their conversation. But that was okay, she'd said all she had to say and Mrs. Travers knew that she was appreciative, which was the most important thing.

"Well, anyway. I just wanted to say thank you. You've know idea how much this means to me." Charlotte told the author, who gave a bemused little laugh.

"I think I have an inkling." She replied, making Charlie laugh too. She'd tried to keep her cool around the author, but she'd been a big fan of her for many years. She'd probably blown her cover when Mrs. Travers found the book she'd brought for her to sign, her mother's book that now sat proudly on her shelf. Charlie had been about to say her goodbyes when she suddenly found herself blurting out something entirely different.

"I'm pregnant." She winced, that was most definitely not good phone etiquette nor was it a particularly acceptable thing to say to someone she hardly knew.

"That was unexpected." Mrs. Travers remarked, confirming her suspicions.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to burst out like that."

"Nonsense." Mrs. Travers stopped another bout of apologies with one firm word. "I assume Dick Sherman is the one responsible for this." Charlotte couldn't believe that everyone around them had seen the love she felt before she'd recognised it herself. Even Mrs. Travers had managed to put two and two together in-between all her shouting.

"You assume correctly." Charlie replied, finding the whole thing very amusing.

"You got married then?"

"Last December."

"How the time flies." Mrs. Travers commented, her voice growing faint all of a sudden. Charlie had to press the receiver hard against her ear to catch what she was saying. "Congratulations, by the way. Being a parent is..." The author trailed off, her mind consumed by memories. "I have a son." She said after a moment. Charlie frowned.

"I didn't know that." She murmured. Mrs. Travers had never said anything about any children. She hadn't even really thought about it before. How could she not have asked about the woman's family? How caught up by it all must she have been to not try and get to know the woman more? Charlie felt even guiltier than when she'd started the conversation, but then Mrs. Travers said something that changed her mind.

"Well, I suppose to say I  _had_  a son would be more appropriate." She continued, and Charlie began to realise what that meant. "He doesn't really..." She quietly trailed off again. Charlie had been about to ask her about it when she began to speak once more. "I remember... VJ Day, 15th August 1945. It was his sixth birthday." Charlie listened intently, not wanting to miss any of the story. She valued the author so much, she deserved to be listened to. Pamela never spoke about her family, she was being entrusted with very personal information and she ought to respect that. "The radio crackled out the news of peace from the kitchen into the garden where we sat. That night, all of Mayfield marched in a torchlight procession to the High Street. The Mayfield Silver Band led the way. At the war memorial, a woman, a widow, laid flowers." That struck a chord. Her mother, a war widow herself like so many others in their little town, had laid flowers in much the same way. "The villagers marched down Fletching Street to Dunstan's Croft where we lit a bonfire. After the fireworks, we sang our favourite songs. Over and over came our most favourite. 'Bring back, bring back, oh, bring back my Bonnie to me, to me...' Someone read a poem." Mrs. Travers went silent for a moment, the memories washing over her like waves on the shore. She hadn't thought about that night in a long time and yet it was so important. Judging by the silence on the other end of the line, Charlie knew how much it meant to her. "I'll never forget that night." She said, her voice slow and edged with sadness. But when the author spoke again, she sounded much more determined. "You have a good life, Charlotte. Never forget that." Charlie shook her head,

"I won't." She promised, and she truly meant it. Though her life had been touched by so much sadness and grief, she had everything she could ever need. She was so thankful for her husband, her friends her, future child. Mrs. Travers seemed to know that she meant what she'd said.

"Good evening, Charlotte. And goodbye." The author said quietly, but the sadness was gone now. Charlie smiled slightly. She was glad that she'd had the chance to properly say goodbye to the author, the closure would make her feel much better.

"Goodbye, Mrs. Travers." She replied, about to put the phone down when the author added,

"Pamela." She corrected her one last time. Charlie beamed with happiness. Though they would most likely never see each other again, the author had left a lasting impression on her. It was good to know they were friends.

"Goodbye, Pamela." Charlotte put the phone down just as Dick same into the room, He was combing his hair, completely oblivious to the emotional moment his wife had just shared with an author a thousand miles away.

"So, what do you wanna do to celebrate?" He asked her, ginning happily. Charlie took a deep breath, expelling the mix of emotions that was churning around inside of her. She offered her husband a little smile and shrugged her shoulders.

"I don't know." She laughed, realising she had no idea what she wanted to do. Dick raised an eyebrow.

"You wanna go out?"

"No."

"You wanna stay in?"

"No."

"What do you wanna do?"

"I don't know." Dick chuckled, shaking his head at her.

"Miss. Indecisive all of a sudden." He teased, making Charlie roll her eyes. He shrugged, smiling slightly. "What do you feel like doing?" Charlie let out a long whoosh of air as she tried to think of something to do, but she came up blank. She was too tired to go out, but too full of excitement to stay in and she couldn't think of anything in-between.

"I can't think of a single thing." She admitted, biting her lip as she wracked her brain. "I've had far too much excitement for one day."

"The days not over yet, sweetheart." Dick replied, raising his eyebrows at her. Charlie twisted her mouth, her foot tapping away as she thought. Still she couldn't think of anything that would appease her. She glanced up at her husband with a guilty smile. Dick snorted at her sheepish expression, although he couldn't think of anything either so he was just as much to blame. "What is it you want, Charlie?" He asked suddenly, and she could see in the fading light that he was trying to keep down a smile. "What, you want the moon?" He pointed towards the far window where the moon was just beginning to peep through the clouds and Charlotte began to laugh when she realised what he was doing. It was far too early in the year to be quoting her favourite film, but she didn't mind it in this case. He gave her a determined look as he stepped closer to her, still biting back that smile. "Just say the word and I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down." He promised, and Charlie's laughter diminuendoed when he drew closer still.

She no longer got butterflies whenever she saw him, but she didn't miss the sensation, because in its place, a warm glow settled in her chest, a familiar and comforting feeling. She supposed that was what love is, familiarity and comfort, a feeling that overwhelmed her whenever he was nearby. Now they were going to have a baby, someone else to love and cherish for a lifetime. Happy didn't even begin to cover it. Dick placed his hands on her hips and pressed his forehead against hers. Charlie closed her eyes, letting out a contented hum at the contact.

"Hey, that's a pretty good idea." Dick murmured, pulling back only to press a kiss to her forehead. "I'll give you the moon, Charlie."


	28. Chapter 28

Never had there been such a spectacular night. One only had to take a glance at the scene to know that this was Disney's biggest Hollywood opening. Grauman's Chinese Theatre was beautiful, and although Dick had been to his fair share of premieres in his time, none of them had been quite like this. He had been standing in the midst of the chaos outside the theatre, just trying to take it all in, when Don had spotted him amongst the crowds and guided him to the side where Bob was waiting for them. They laughed and cheered, feeling immensely proud of themselves. Tonight was the night. All their hard work was finally over and ready for the public to enjoy. The film really was a masterpiece and they couldn't wait to see the reaction.

Bulbs flashed continuously whilst limousine after limousine pulled up at the red carpet. As Dick scanned the crowds for his wife, he saw a lot of people he knew and a lot of people he didn't. Although his contribution to the picture had finished a few months ago, Charlie had been hard at work all day, animating a short film Disney had concocted. It was only a small project but it kept her busy. She'd finished her work for 'Mary' fairly quickly as there was hardly any animation at all, so perhaps Mrs. Travers wouldn't be too unhappy with the end product.

Mrs. Travers. The author had turned up out of the blue only that morning. Walt had walked in to find her standing in his office, requesting an invite for the premiere. Walt had agreed quickly, not wanting to get into any more trouble with the author, and Mrs. Travers had felt very pleased with herself indeed. Dick truly hoped she enjoyed the movie, it would mean the world to him, his brother, Don, and of course Charlie, if she gave her approval. They'd just have to wait and see.

A taxi rolled up at the red carpet, immediately grabbing his attention. It was the only cab amongst dozens of limos which was quite amusing to see. To his delight, the taxi's door opened and the most beautiful woman in the world stepped out. He left his brother and his friend and wove through the crowd to meet her at the curb. It took time to navigate the crush of people. Ushers were dressed as English Bobbies, reporters stood on podiums in colourful suits hoping to get a good shot. Penguins danced their hearts out in front of the theatre whilst a band of Pearly Kings and Queens played for the onlookers. It was hard to find his wife through all the noise and celebration, but then Charlie's eyes met his through the masses and he immediately began to smile. Charlie couldn't keep the grin off her face as her husband came closer, the crowds of people fading to silence now that she'd seen him.

She'd just finished work, but she looked as beautiful as ever. His wonderful best friend, smiling at him with adoration. She was wearing a red dress and her hair was up, the pearl necklace he'd bought her as an anniversary gift shining in the bright glow of the premiere. He saw her bend down to the window of the taxi and thank the driver, who he wasn't surprised to see was the young man Jimmy. Los Angeles was a big city, and yet somehow Charlie had run into the boy in the local supermarket a few weeks ago. They'd talked for a little while and Charlie discovered that the young man actually hoped to be a writer someday. She'd put in a word with Don, who immediately called the boy and took him on as an apprentice of sorts. It really was a small world after all. Dick finally reached her and Charlie let out a whoosh of air.

"Blimey," She murmured, clearly finding the whole thing just as overwhelming as he did. "That's a lot of people." She looked up at him and he could see the hint of apprehension in her eyes. They were both impossibly excited to see the finished film and show the world what they'd been working on for three years. But there was also that small, hard to ignore feeling that all their hard work was about to be judged by a group of strangers. Dick smiled softly down at her, knowing exactly how she was feeling.

"Everything's going to be fine." He reassured her in a quiet voice, speaking close to her ear so that he was heard over the din of the premiere. Crowds and crowds of fans screamed every time a bulb flashed, waving their autograph books and posters in the air. Every Disney character imaginable bounced up and down the lines of well-wishers, hugging them, dancing for them, signing their programmes. The whole of Hollywood Boulevard had been closed and the atmosphere was like the most enormous, jubilant party one could ever hope to attend.

Dick kissed Charlie's cheek then held up his arm for her. She gave him a rueful smile but slipped her arm through his all the same and let him guide her down the red carpet. She was just a woman from Southfields, she'd never dreamed that one day she might be walking the red carpet of a Hollywood premiere, her charming husband on her arm. To say that she felt as if she were in a dream would be a gross understatement. As he led her through the streams of people, they passed Walt, his wife Lillian, Dick Van Dyke and Julie Andrews being interviewed together. Charlie tried to catch her boss' eye, but he was far too busy with the reporter and didn't notice them walking by.

Dick brought her over to Bob, Don and their wives, and they all chatted for a while before the three men were corralled by another reporter. Before he left, Dick asked Charlie if she would be alright and she waved him away. It was very sweet of him to worry, but her nerves had relaxed considerably now that she'd talked to her friends. She would be perfectly happy with Joyce and Elsie, two women who she'd become close with over the last few years. Dick gave her a cheeky wink before he left and she rolled her eyes but laughed at his antics.

"Boy," Joyce breathed, recapturing Charlie's attention. "I never get used to these." Charlie assumed by 'these' she meant film premieres, which she found extremely reassuring. Both her companions had seemed very quiescent about the whole thing whilst she had to remind herself to breathe. It was nice to know that she wasn't the only one who found such a grand affair so overcoming.

"It'd be easier if they served drinks." Chimed in Elsie. Don's wife was much like the writer himself, tall and sharp-witted, but overall smiley and fun to talk to. Charlie had taken a liking to her just as much as her new sister-in-law.

"You won't get anything like that until after the picture." Said Joyce, shaking her head at her friend's words. "You'll have to wait."

"I'm sure the after-party will have a drink of two." Charlie smiled, her nerves completely forgotten now. "God knows I need one."

"Wait? Who waits?" Elsie scoffed, making the other two women raise their eyebrows. She began to rummage around in her little clutch purse then finally brought out, in a manner reminiscent of Poppins herself, a metal flask. The other women burst out laughing but Elsie quickly shushed them. "It's just juice." She assured them, though Charlie wasn't completely certain that she believed her. "For now." Joyce shook her head at her friend then smiled at Charlie. The artist had been about to ask about the other premieres that they'd had been to when she saw Joyce freeze. The woman had her eyes locked on something over Charlie's shoulder, her lips parted in surprise.

"Oh, my God." She breathed, making Charlie and Elsie spin around, trying to see what she'd spotted. "Is that..?" Charlie craned her neck over the crowds to see where Joyce was staring. Her heart pounded when she finally saw her. At the beginning of the red carpet stood Mrs. Travers, dressed up to the nines. The author stood stock still at the entrance to the premiere, her sharp eyes moving everywhere.

"Yes," Charlie murmured, the corners of her mouth beginning to lift into a smile. "I do believe it is." Mrs. Travers still hadn't moved, but then her driver, the same driver who'd taken her everywhere during her stay, stood by her side. They watched in silence as the man spoke in her ear, too engrossed to say a word to each other. Then finally, the author began to make her way forward towards the theatre. "Hello, Pamela." Charlie breathed. She was so happy to see her, a part of her had worried that she wouldn't turn up. But Charlie's heart grew heavy as she saw her squeeze her driver's hand, not seeming to want to let go. Charlie had thought her hesitancy was due to her clear disdain for Disney and his work, but now she realised that the tentative steps the author was taking through the crowd were not in any way restricted by spite. The poor woman looked just as frightened as she felt, but there was no one to meet her as she walked the red carpet of her premiere. Pamela moved through the spangling, glittering, adoring Hollywood crowd and no one payed any attention to her.

Charlie watched as Mrs. Travers paused at the entrance to the theatre, her eyes drawn to something to the side. Posters of the characters in the film were tacked up all around the entrance, but only one captured the author's gaze. Pamela raised her chin at the picture of Mr. Banks, overcome with an emotion she couldn't quite pinpoint. She stayed still, just gazing at the man who meant so much to her, fictional or not. Her father had been a wonderful man and he had deserved better. But she no longer felt the weight of guilt whenever she thought of him. Looking now at the crowds of people around her, she believed Mr. Disney when he said that they would weep, wring their hands, and rejoice for generations to come. Looking as that poster of George Banks, she knew that he had been honoured, redeemed,  _saved_.

Charlie had been about to go and talk to Mrs. Travers, to ask her how she was feeling, but she was beaten to it by an unexpected friend. Mickey Mouse had bounced down the carpet and slowed at the sight of the author. They watched in amazement as the mouse held out his arm to her and though she gave him a dubious look, Pamela took his arm and let him guide her into the theatre. Charlie let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. Her heart felt like it might burst just watching the author let everything go. It took a great deal of courage to honour the past yet not let it dictate one's life. She hoped to see the author again and tell her so. She felt a hand on her waist and looked around to find Dick had rejoined them, a wide grin on his face, completely unaware of all that she'd just witnessed.

"You okay?" He asked, noticing the sorrow in her expression before she could hide it. Charlie gave him a small smile but in truth she felt infinitely better after what she'd seen.

"I'm absolutely perfect." She replied, reaching up and kissing him quick. "C'mon, let's go."

The auditorium was jam-packed, there wasn't an empty seat in the house. Charlie was pleased to see so many children in the audience and she hoped they had fun watching the picture. Dick had the tickets and he led them to their seats. Don, Walt and their families were behind them, whilst Pamela was seated between the Sherman brothers. Before Charlie could greet the author, the lights began to dim and the familiar overture filled the room. Dick reached out and squeezed Charlie's hand as his and his brother's music was heard by the audience for the first time. That rush of excitement and apprehension would never get tiresome, but it felt considerably better having Charlie by his side to smile reassuringly and whisper bits of encouragement.

The film was just as charming, humorous and delightful as Walt had promised it would be. The characters shone, the music inspired, and the story would stay in the hearts and minds of families for years to come. Charlie was enraptured the whole time. She'd always adored going to the cinema, but to see a picture that she and the people she loved had created was unlike anything she'd ever experienced before. Pamela looked around at the faces in the audience - laughing, humming, sad, joyous. Part of her was still furious about how Disney had twisted her beloved story, but then there was some small satisfaction when she saw the effect the film had on its audience.

Charlie had been having a wonderful time right up until two thirds of the way though the film. Jane and Michael had run away from their father at the bank and had bumped into Bert the chimney sweep. The two children were fantastic little actors, but Charlie couldn't help but glance at Mrs. Travers all through the scene.

"You know, begging your pardon, but the one my heart goes out to is your father." Bert was saying. "There he is in that cold, heartless bank day after day, hemmed in by mounds of cold, heartless money. I don't like to see any living thing caged up."

"Father? In a cage?"

"They makes cages in all sizes and shapes, you know. Bank-shaped some of 'em, carpets and all."

Mrs. Travers gazed at the scene, her face taught. Charlie thought that the author must be trying very hard not to cry, just like she was. Dick noticed her lip caught between her teeth and squeezed her hand, which made her feel a little better, but her mind stayed on the author two seats down for the rest of the film. Children and adults alike were completely bewitched by the picture, their faces tilted upwards to the screen. The whole audience sat in a rapt silence as the Banks children spoke with their wonderful, magical nanny.

"You won't ever leave us will you?" Michael asked.

"Whatever would we do without you?" Added Jane. Mary Poppins tilted her head, not wanting to indulge in their love for her.

"I shall stay until the wind changes." She told them curtly, though her voice was soft. Charlie knew now that the nanny was there to help their father, and didn't want the children to choose her over Mr. Banks. The poor man, who at first had seemed to powerful and stoic, was now a sad, hopeless figure. Yet he walked with his head held high down the misty, tree-lined London streets, on his way to be fired from the bank.

Charlie felt on the brink of tears, but was brought out of the moment when she heard a quiet sniffling down the row of seats. Pamela had tears coursing down her face, her shoulders heaving as she tried desperately not to sob out loud. But other people were noticing, not just Charlie. Finally, Walt leaned forward, placing a hand on her shoulder. Charlie watched out of the corner of her eye as Pamela reached up and gripped it tightly, unable to speak.

"It's alright, Mrs. Travers. It's alright." She could just about hear her boss over the music playing all around her. "Mr. Banks is going to be alright. I promise." Pamela nodded in gratitude, but still couldn't contain her sobs. It was all pouring from her now in one immense catharsis, the most emotion that Charlie had ever seen the author express. Then she finally managed to get her voice working.

"No, no. It's just that... I can't- I can't abide cartoons!" She told Disney, much to Charlie's amusement. She knew that wasn't the real reason behind her tears and so did Walt. But the filmmaker sat back in his seat, not wanting push the author if she refused to tell him the truth. Charlie wished more than anything to reach out to Pamela, to reassure her, but the author seemed to have a lid on it now, and though she could still see tears falling, her breathing had slowed and her hands no longer gripped the arms of her chair.

By the time 'Let's Go Fly a Kite' was playing, the whole audience had fallen in love with the film just as Charlie had. The song resonated strongly with her. The time that her friends had performed it for Mrs. Travers was perhaps one of her fondest memories of her time at the Studios. It was the most uplifting song in the world, and yet it also had a ring of sadness. As Mary Poppins readied herself to leave the Banks' now that her work was done, Charlie thought back to all the strife she and her friends had struggled through. All around her, the audience was smiling, laughing, singing along, yet Pamela was still in tears. They poured down her cheeks, but they were silent now, making her eyes shine as she slowly began to mouth along to the words that meant so much to her.

When the credits began to roll, the whole audience was on their feet. Charlotte had never heard such a deafening roar of applause. Beside her, Dick was gazing around at the room, basking in their enthusiastic reaction. She couldn't be more proud of her husband. Charlie kissed his cheek, then murmured in his ear,

"Well done, darling." Dick looked down at her and smiled that marvellous smile of his. He still glowed whenever he looked at her like that, she didn't think he'd ever stop enchanting her. Well, she supposed she had a lifetime to be proved right.

Walt quickly bustled his troupe out of the cinema and back onto the red carpet. The crowds hadn't thinned, somehow the clamour seemed to have increased. People clearly loved the film, just as Charlie had known they would. The Sherman brothers were pulled away to interviewed again by a different reporter, but this time Dick took Charlie with him. As the stood in the warm summer air, Dick wrapped his arm around his wife's waist and held her close as he and his brother were asked question after question. When the interview was over, Bob went to find Joyce, who had wondered off with Elsie while they waited. Charlie was watching Mickey Mouse dance around with an usher dressed as Snow White when she felt Dick's hold on her waist tighten. She looked around at him and he smiled, pulling her against his chest. Although being close to her husband truly was a wonderful feeling, she couldn't help but feel grateful that the crowd's attention was drawn to Walt who was divvying out his pre-signed slips of paper.

"Charlotte, my love?" Dick murmured as his hands slid around her waist. Charlie raised her eyebrows at him, certain that his sweet words hid an ulterior motive.

"Yes, dear?" She replied in the same low, soft tone that he'd used. Dick grinned at her, he'd known that she would suss him out in no time at all.

"You look simply astounding this evening." Charlie laughed and slid her hands up his arms to rest on his shoulders, her fingers interlocking behind his neck.

"Why thank you." She smirked. He was suddenly reminded of Mrs. Travers' first day at the studios. That whirlwind of a woman had knocked them all for six so he'd wandered off whilst Bob and Don argued. He remembered feeling sick with worry. He'd thought Mrs. Travers would turn their work upside down, little did he know she'd upend their lives as well. But then Charlie had stood next to him at the window and had made him feel better just by talking to him. He honestly didn't think he could've fallen for her any faster. With an insane amount of courage, he'd told her she looked beautiful and she'd said that she knew. He'd never forget the look on her face, that sly smile and her eyes bright.

"It's a nice dress." He murmured, running his hands up her sides in a way that made Charlie's face grow hot. Despite her red skin, he noticed the warning look in her eyes. She wasn't fond of public displays of affection, especially in front of so many people. He grinned impishly then leaned forward to whisper by her ear. "It'll be a shame when I tear it off you later." Charlotte gasped and leaned back a little so she could look him in the eye. Though his low voice and promise of an interesting night were intriguing, her dress had cost quite a lot and she hoped to wear it again, so there was no way that he would be tearing it in any way. She narrowed her eyes at her husband,

"You are  _not_  going to rip this dre-" Before she could finish her sentence, Dick made a low noise akin to a growl and pulled her tight against him, interrupting her with a hard kiss. Charlie couldn't possibly stay angry when he kissed her like that, his hold on her hips tight, his chest against hers. When he reluctantly pulled away, Charlie kept her eyes closed for a moment before she managed to formulate a sentence. "I'll dig out my sewing machine." She said breathlessly, making Dick laugh. "You know, you can't keep using that whenever you think you're going to lose an argument."

"You can use it too, gorgeous."

"I know, but I still have my pride, Richard." Her husband let out a loud laugh, his head thrown back as he always did when she'd said something particularly funny. When he looked back at her again, his expression was soft and warm.

"You wanna get out of here?" He asked. Charlotte looked over her shoulder at the red carpet. The crowds were finally beginning to wane and Walt and Lillian were headed towards their car. They were no doubt off to the after party, celebrating the success of the picture. They'd originally planned to go too, but they'd been so tired recently. She'd been about to agree with Dick, it was time to go home, but then she caught sight of someone she'd been wanting to speak to. She turned back to her husband.

"Just a second." She promised, before kissing him quickly and hurrying across the red carpet to the edge of the pavement where a certain author was just getting into her car. "Mrs. Travers!" She called and the woman froze. Pamela turned around to see who had addressed her and wasn't surprised to find Charlotte Sherman half walking, half running down the red carpet. The artist stopped in front of her, smiling so widely that Mrs. Travers couldn't help but smile back.

"Ah, there you are." She said to the younger woman, looking her over with amusement. She'd clearly just come running all the way across the boulevard and was now a little out of breath. Charlotte put her hands on her hips, grinning inanely despite her breathlessness.

"Did you enjoy the film?" She asked the author. To her disappointment, Pamela's smile quickly faded. She looked back at the emptying theatre, the enormous posters, the dancing penguins. She thought it was all completely monstrous, a dollar-printing mess. But perhaps there was a small part of her that had enjoyed seeing the happy faces of all those men, women and children. She looked back at Charlie to find she was still smiling. Pamela gave a deep sigh and closed her car door.

"I suppose I'll have to learn to live with it, won't I?" She muttered, though she did give the artist the tiniest hint of a smile. Charlie huffed and shook her head slightly.

"I thought it was marvellous." She said, and she truly meant it. They both looked back at the beautiful theatre that was simply bursting with light. "A wonder of the world forever." She murmured, which made Pamela smile. Yes, she rather liked the sound of that. Charlotte cleared her throat, determined not to get too emotional in front of her sort-of friend. "And all this was for you. That must be nice." She attempted to sway the author's opinion, but Mrs. Travers merely sniffed. She'd never been one for grand affairs. No, her days in the limelight were long gone. She only hoped for a comfortable setting with good food and good company, some of which were quite hard to find these days. Charlie studied the author for a moment before daring herself to add, "I'd like to thank you." Mrs. Travers turned her gaze back to Charlie, her eyebrows raised.

"Thank me?" She repeated, and Charlotte was quick to explain herself. She knew Pamela didn't like to dally, nor did she enjoy copious gratitude. She'd have to be fast if she wanted to express her appreciation.

"Your book, it was the first story that truly meant something to me." Charlie told her softly, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed. "And it brought me all the way across the Atlantic, where I met my closest friends and fell in love." She pointed across the red carpet to Dick who was horsing around with his brother. She rolled her eyes before turned back to the author. "You gave me a new life, and I know I can never repay you for that." Mrs. Travers looked quite pleased despite her obvious dislike for such talk and she tried her best to hide it. Charlotte was glad that she knew how much she appreciated all that she'd given her, even if it was somewhat unwitting or reluctant. She wished there was some way that she could show her gratitude, but she couldn't think of anything that the author would agree to. Then an idea struck. Charlie took the author's hand and smiled warmly at her. "Please, come by the Studios tomorrow."

"Whatever for?" Pamela was so surprised by her request that she hadn't noticed Charlie taking her hand, much to the artist's relief. She knew the author wasn't exactly the warmest of people, such a degree of physical contact was most likely unwelcome.

"Please, just come." Charlotte wouldn't give anything away, she wanted it to be a surprise. Pamela narrowed her eyes at the artist then sighed slightly. She knew there was no way that Charlie would let her say no, what use was there arguing? Mrs. Travers looked around again when she heard loud laughter. Dick, Bob, Don and their partners were all standing in a group, all of them shining with life and laughter. Charlie gazed lovingly at her family, feeling so proud of each and every one of them, while Pamela couldn't help but feel quite jealous of their closeness. She had never had a family like that, nor would she ever have one. Pamela looked down at her feet, smoothing down her dress to distract herself.

"I don't suppose they'd ever want to see my face again." She told Charlotte, nodding slightly to the writer and musicians that she'd worked with for just a few weeks. "They're very glad to see the back of me." Charlotte frowned at the author.

"That's not true." She said, her voice quiet but firm. "Please, just one last time. And then you can forget all about us." Mrs. Travers laughed then, honest to God laughed.

"I doubt that will ever be possible." She muttered, but her tone was light and she looked much happier now than when Charlotte had approached her. Charlie laughed too but then squeezed the author's hand comfortingly.

"It's alright. It's alright, Mrs. Travers. The world is safe really." She promised the author, who surprisingly seemed to find some comfort in her words. Then Charlotte gave her a sly smile. "And anyway, there's someone I'd like you to meet."

* * *

It felt like years since they had all gathered in the rehearsal room. It looked a little different, after all a completely new film was being made now. The Shermans still practised there sometimes, Disney had asked them to write a few songs for the park and he had them lined up to write for the next big feature film that he had planned. Something about a bear, a panther, and a boy, but they wouldn't start on that for a few years yet. That was Walt, always thinking ahead.

Don had herded Mac, Bob and Dolly into the rehearsal room, the latter having entrusted Tommie with the phones whilst she awaited the surprise. They'd all come in a little early so that whatever Charlie and Dick had planned wouldn't interrupt their work. To their great surprise, Mrs. Travers walked into the rehearsal room just a few minutes after Don had rounded them all up. She looked startled to see them all in one place, waiting impatiently for their friends to arrive. Don practically bounced out of his chair, a bundle of energy as always.

"You came, Charlie will be so happy." He told the author as he shook her hand. Charlie had told them how she'd managed to persuade Mrs. Travers back to the Walt Disney Studios just one last time. At first he hadn't believed her, only now that Pamela was standing in front of him did he appreciate Charlie's powers of persuasion. Mrs. Travers shook his hand though her expression remained dubious.

"I can't see why." She said honestly, but Don merely smiled. Pamela looked around at the other figures in the room, her brow furrowed. "What  _is_  going on?"

"You're here to meet someone." Don told her, though that only added to the confusion. In truth, he and Bob were the only people who knew what Charlie had planned and they intended to intrigue the others as much as possible until she got there.

"Yes, that's what she told me. Why must you all insist on being so cryptic?" Mrs. Travers muttered, though her tone wasn't the slightest bit sour. She had a certain disliking for the film Disney had made, but she knew that all authors felt the same way when their beautiful characters leapt of the page and onto the silver screen. She held no grudge against these wonderful, talented people who had helped her through such a trying time.

"They're here!" Mac suddenly yelped, pointing to the rehearsal room door. They all looked around to see Dick smiling at them through the glass before he pushed open the door.

"Morning everyone!" He greeted them all with enthusiasm. The others all replied with gusto, as was the American way, but Mrs. Travers only smiled, keeping a distance from the festivities. Though she did like these eccentric people, she still felt somewhat disconnected from their world. Charlotte, it appeared, was the only way for her to bridge the gap, but the younger woman was nowhere to be seen.

"So, what's going on, Dick?" Mac asked in his usual booming voice. Dolly nodded, taking a seat in one of the many armchairs.

"Yeah, we've all got jobs, you know." She joked, making Dick roll his eyes.

"I know, I know. Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedules." He drawled, which Dolly scoffed at, though they were both only playing. Then Dick gestured for them all to come closer. "Okay, everyone, gather around." He grinned at them all as they hurried forward, leaping up from chairs and tabletops. "There's someone my beautiful wife and I would like you to meet." He looked to his brother then, who gave him an encouraging nod. Dick grinned back then held the door open. Charlie suddenly stepped out from around the corner, she'd been hiding beside the door whilst her husband corralled their friends.

"Hi." She smiled as she stepped into the room and at once they noticed the bundle she carried in her arms. The reaction was instantaneous.

"Oh, my word!"

"He's adorable!"

"Bring him here, let me see him."

Charlie smiled at her husband beside her as their closest friends gathered around to see their newborn son. He was born on 29th July and was the most precious thing that Charlie had ever owned. She let them all coo and wiggle their fingers at him as people usually did when they encountered a baby before she looked over their heads to a certain author.

"Pamela?" She called and the woman looked up at her. She'd hung back from the gaggle that surrounded the happy couple, but Charlie hadn't invited her that day for her to stand in the background. She smiled at Pamela and carefully gestured for her to come forward. "Would you like to hold him?" All eyes turned to Mrs. Travers, who looked completely astonished by her offer. Charlie feared that the author would try and wriggle out of it, but to her delight, she tentatively stepped forward until she was standing in front of Charlie. The artist passed her son over to Pamela, making sure that he was comfortable before beaming at her. Mrs. Travers gazed down at the little boy in her arms and felt an overwhelming sense of... Well, she didn't know what. But at that moment, she no longer felt like an outsider, she no longer felt alone. Pamela looked up at Charlie and smiled back, feeling very jubilant indeed.

"Did you decide on a name?" Bob asked, though he never looked away from his little nephew. He had of course met him before, but that was when he'd been a tiny newborn baby. Now Dick and Charlie's son was a little less than a month old with an entire beautiful, incredible, terrifying, wonderful life ahead of him. Charlie looked up at her darling husband and he smiled back at her before he pressed a kiss to her forehead. This was the room where they had met, it felt fitting that their little boy should be introduced to their greatest friends in the same place. Though that all seemed like a lifetime ago now. It's not often that one finds everything they're looking for by chance, but Charlie was very glad that she had taken that step, otherwise she certainly would not be as happy as she was that day.

"George." Said Charlotte eventually, smiling warmly at her friends. Mrs. Travers looked up at the artist in surprise, and Charlie nodded her head. "His name is George."

The End.


End file.
